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THE 

LAWS  OF  IMITATION 


BY 
GABRIEL    TARDE 

Professor  in  the  College  de  France,  Member  of  the  Institute 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  SECOND 
FRENCH  EDITION  BY  ^ 

ELSIE    CLEWS    PARSONS 

Lecturer  on  Sociology  in  Barnard  College 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 

FRANKLIN    H.    GIDDINGS 
Professor  of  Sociology  in  Columbia  University 


NEW  YORK 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 
1903 


COPYRIGHT,    1903 

BY 
HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


Published  September,  1903 


THE  MERSHON  COMPANY  PRESS 
RAHWAY,  N.  J. 


\ 


INTRODUCTION 

GABRIEL  TARDE,  whose  most  interesting  and  important 
book  is  here  given  to  American  readers,  is  Professor  of 
Modern  Philosophy  in  the  College  de  France,  and  a  member 
of  the  Lnstitut.  A  true  philosopher,  but  also  a  man  of  af- 
fairs, with  wide  intellectual  sympathies,  M.  Tarde  is  a  writer 
of  great  charm,  and  his  influence  among  his  own  countrymen 
and  abroad  has  steadily  increased  since  he  began,  in  1880, 
to  contribute  to  the  Revue  philosophique.  American 
scholars,  long  familiar  with  M.  Tarde's  suggestive  works, 
have  felt  that  his  thought  should  be  made  more  accessible 
to  English-speaking  readers.  Hitherto  only  a  little  book, 
Les  Lois  sociales,  presenting  a  mere  outline  of  his  philos- 
ophy, has  been  translated. 

4  M.  Tarde  was  born  in  1843,  at  Sarlat,  Dordogne.    After 

2        school  days  were  over,  instead  of  entering  upon  university 

1®       life  at  Bordeaux,  or  Montpellier,  or  Paris,  he  took  up  legal 

^      studies,  and   presently    became   juge   d 'instruction    in   his 

native  town.     This  office  he  held  for  nearly  eighteen  years, 

years  of  keen  observation,  but  also  of  much  solitude,  of 

patient  reflection,  of  the  gradual  unfolding  of  original  ideas 

O     of  man,  of  society,  and  of  the  world,  which  were  presently 

^     to  combine  in  a  complete  philosophical  scheme. 

A  born  student  of  human  nature,  M.  Tarde  was  from  the 

first  interested  in  that  oldest  of  philosophical  problems,  the 

explanation  of  motive.     He  early  perceived  not  only  that 

motive  may  be  resolved  into  terms  of  belief  and  desire,  but 

v?     also    that    it   may    be    measured.     This  discovery  had,  of 

course,  been  made  before  by  Bentham,  Cournot,  Menger, 

Walras,  and  Jevons,  but  Tarde's  presentation  of  the  sub- 

fO     ject  in  his  first  contribution  to  the  Revue  philosophique,  on 

La  Croyance  et  le  desir,  possibility  de  leur  mesure,  was 

independent  and  original. 

iii 


302723 


iv  Introduction 

But  motives,  and  those  impersonal  forces  that  are  not 
motives,  work  out  results  in  an  orderly  fashion,  by  definite 
modes,  which  are  the  chief  subject-matter  of  scientific  study, 
and  to  the  explanation  of  modes  of  activity  M.  Tarde  was 
to  make  noteworthy  contributions.  Among  the  phenomena 
that  early  arrested  his  attention  was  imitation.  From  his 
office  of  magistrate  he  observed  the  large  part  that  imitation 
plays  in  criminal  conduct.  Does  it  play  a  smaller  part  in 
normal  conduct?  Very  rapidly  M.  Tarde's  ardent  mind 
ranged  over  the  field  of  history,  followed  the  spread  of 
Western  civilisation,  and  reviewed  the  development  of  lan- 
guage, the  evolution  of  art,  of  law,  and  of  institutions.  The 
evidence  was  overwhelming  that  in  all  the  affairs  of  men, 
whether  of  good  or  of  evil  report,  imitation  is  an  ever-pres- 
ent factor;  and  to  a  philosophical  mind  the  implication 
was  obvious,  that  there  must  be  psychological  or  sociolog- 
ical laws  of  imitation,  worthy  of  most  thorough  study. 

At  this  time  sociology  was  represented  in  France  by  dis- 
ciples of  Comte  and  by  a  few  interested  readers  of  Herbert 
Spencer.  The  thoughts  of  the  Comtists  did  not  range  far 
beyond  the  "  hierarchy  of  the  sciences,"  and  the  "  three 
stages  "  of  history.  To  demonstrate  the  place  of  sociology 
in  the  "  hierarchy,"  or  to  show  that  a  social  fact  belonged 
to  one  or  another  "  stage,"  was  very  nearly  the  limit  of 
Comtist  sociological  ambition.  The  Spencerians,  on  the 
other  hand,  seizing  upon  Spencer's  proposition  that  society 
is  an  organism, — but  neglecting  most  of  the  psychological 
and  historical  elements  of  his  system, — were  busy  elaborat- 
ing biological  analogies. 

With  such  notions  M.  Tarde  had,  and  could  have,  no 
sympathy.  He  felt  that  if  the  study  of  society  was  to  be 
erected  into  a  science,  a  beginning  must  be  made,  not  by 
demonstrating  the  logical  and  rightful  place  of  sociology 
in  the  sisterhood  of  sciences,  and  not  by  exploiting  the  anal- 
ogy of  institutions  to  organic  life,  but  rather  by  thoroughly 
examining  the  nature  and  combinations  of  some  distinc- 
tively social  phenomenon.  The  fact — the  relationship  or 
activity — if  such  there  be,  in  virtue  of  which  society  is 


Introduction  v 

itself,  a  differentiated  thing,  and  not  merely  a  part  of  some- 
thing else,  that  fact  the  sociologist  should  understand 
through  and  through,  and  in  all  its  bearings,  and  should 
make  it  the  corner-stone  of  his  system.  That  elemental 
social  fact  M.  Tarde  believed  he  had  discovered  in  the 
phenomenon  of  imitation. 

Too  profoundly  philosophical,  however,  to  view  any  fact 
in  even  partial  isolation,  M.  Tarde  perceived  that  imitation, 
as  a  social  form,  is  only  one  mode  of  a  universal  activity, 
of  that  endless  repetition,  throughout  nature,  which  in  the 
physical  realm  we  know  as  the  undulations  of  ether,  the 
vibrations  of  material  bodies,  the  swing  of  the  planets  in 
their  orbits,  the  alternations  of  light  and  darkness,  and  of 
seasons,  the  succession  of  life  and  death.  Here,  then,  was 
not  only  a  fundamental  truth  of  social  science,  but  also  a 
first  principle  of  cosmic  philosophy. 

His  first  tentative  studies  of  the  laws  of  universal  repeti- 
tion in  physical  nature  and  in  history,  and  of  imitation  as 
the  distinctive  social  fact,  M.  Tarde  published  between  1882 
and  1884  in  the  Revue  philosophique.  Among  articles 
which,  in  substance,  afterwards  reappeared  as  chapters  of 
Les  Lois  de  V imitation,  were  those  entitled  Les  Traits 
communs  de  la  nature  et  de  I'histoire,  L'Archeologie  et 
la  statistique,  and  Qu'est-ce  qu'une  societe?  Other 
articles,  setting  forth  the  same  underlying  principles,  but 
having  a  more  practical  aim,  and  presenting  views  born  of 
the  author's  professional  experience  as  a  magistrate,  were 
afterwards  incorporated  in  the  volumes,  La  Criminalite 
comparee  and  La  Philosophic  penale  (1891).  Of  these 
and  other  writings  by  our  author  on  criminology,  Havelock 
Ellis  says :  "  He  touches  on  all  the  various  problems  of  crime 
with  ever-ready  intelligence  and  acuteness,  and  a  rare  charm 
of  literary  style,  illuminating  with  suggestive  criticism 
everything  that  he  touches."  1 

The  first  edition  of  Les  Lois  de  limitation  appeared 
in  1890;  a  second  in  1895.  M.  Tarde  had  now  conceived 
a  complete  philosophy  of  phenomenal  existence,  and  he 
1  The  Criminal,  p.  42. 


vi  Introduction 

rapidly  converted  it  into  literary  embodiment.  Unlike 
philosophers  in  general,  M.  Tarde  is  compact  and  brief  in 
his  systematic  work;  discursive  in  his  varied  writings  illus- 
trative of  principles  or  practical  by  application.  His  whole 
philosophical  system  is  set  forth  in  three  volumes  of  mod- 
erate dimensions.  Les  Lois  de  I3 imitation  is  an  exposition 
of  the  facts  and  laws  of  universal  repetition.  In  La 
Logique  sociale,  which  appeared  in  1895,  we  have  our 
author's  explanation  of  the  way  in  which  elemental  phe- 
nomena, undergoing  endless  repetition,  are  combined  in  con- 
crete groups,  bodies,  systems,  especially  mental  and  social 
systems.  This  process  is  a  logic,  a  synthesis,  of  repetitions. 
It  includes  adaptation,  invention,  and  organisation.  The 
chapters  on  the  laws  of  invention  are  brilliant  examples  of 
M.  Tarde's  originality  and  many-sided  knowledge.  The 
third  volume  of  the  system,  L'Opposition  universelle,  was 
published  in  1897.  Here  was  developed  the  theory  of  a 
third  universal  form  and  aspect  of  natural  phenomena — 
namely,  conflict. 

The  chronological:  order  of  these  publications  did  not 
correspond  exactly  to  their  logical  order,  as  parts  of  a  sys- 
tem. The  latter  was  presented  in  a  series  of  lectures  in 
1897  at  tne  College  Libre  des  Sciences  Sociales.  The  order 
there  given  was  "  The  Repetition  of  Phenomena,"  "  The 
Opposition  of  Phenomena,"  "  The  Adaptation  of  Phenom- 
ena." These  lectures  were  published  in  1898,  under  the 
title  already  mentioned,  Les  Lois  sociales. 

M.  Tarde's  abilities,  and  in  particular  his  knowledge  of 
criminal  statistics  and  penology,  had  ere  this  drawn  atten- 
tion to  him  as  a  man  whom  the  state  could  not  overlook, 
and  in  1894  he  was  called  to  Paris  to  assume  charge  of  the 
Bureau  of  Statistics  of  the  Ministry  of  Justice.  This  posi- 
tion he  held  until  his  election  as  Professor  of  Modern  Philos- 
ophy in  the  College  de  France  in  1900.  In  this  latter  year 
he  was  elected  also  a  member  of  the  Institute  of  France. 

M.  Tarde's  later  writings  present  his  philosophical  and 
sociological  views  under  many  aspects.  They  include: 
Les  Transformations  du  droit,  Les  Transformations  du 


Introduction  vii 

pouvoir,  L*  Opinion  et  la  joule,  Etudes  penales  et  sociales, 
Essais  et  Melanges  sociologiques,  Etudes  de  psychologic 
penale,  and  Psychologic  economique. 

It  is  not  the  purpose  of  these  brief  lines  of  introduction 
to  attempt  any  estimate  of  M.  Tarde's  place  in  philosophy, 
or  to  offer  any  criticism  of  his  sociological  views.  The 
object  is  rather  to  indicate  the  place  which  "  The  Laws  of 
Imitation"  holds  among  the  many  writings  of  a  gifted  and 
widely  influential  author,  in  the  belief  that  those  who  read 
this  volume  will  wish  to  look  into  at  least  some  of  the 
others. 

Of  the  quality  of  Mrs.  Parsons'  translation  the  reader 
himself  will  judge.  It  is  enough  here  to  say  that  Mrs. 
Parsons  has  sought  with  painstaking  fidelity  to  convey  to 
English  readers  the  exact  meaning  of  the  original  text. 

FRANKLIN  H.  GIDDINGS 

Columbia  University 


PREFACE  TO   THE   FIRST   EDITION 

IN  this  work  I  have  endeavoured  to  point  out  as  clearly  as 
possible  the  purely  social  side  of  human  phenomena,  as  dis- 
tinct from  their  vital  and  physical  characteristics.  It  just 
happens,  however,  that  the  point  of  view  which  is  helpful 
in  noting  this  distinction  is  the  very  one  which  presents  the 
greatest  number  of  the  closest  and  most  natural  analogies 
between  the  facts  of  society  and  the  facts  of  nature.  Many 
years  ago  I  formulated  and  partly  developed  in  the  Revue 
philosophique  my  fundamental  thought,  — "  the  key  to 
almost  every  lock,"  as  one  of  our  greatest  philosophers  of 
history  graciously  wrote  to  me; — and  as  the  plan  of  the 
present  work  was  already  in  my  mind  at  that  time,  many  of 
those  articles  have  been  readily  incorporated  as  chapters  of 
this  book.1  I  am  but  setting  them  in  the  place  for  which 
they  were  originally  intended.  Sociologists  who  have 
already  honoured  these  fragmentary  expositions  with  their 
notice,  now  have  the  opportunity,  if  they  desire  it,  to  criti- 
cise my  point  of  view  in  its  entirety.  Any  harsh  treatment 
of  myself  I  will  forgive,  providing  my  thought  be  received 
with  leniency.  This  is  not  at  all  impossible.  In  fact,  my 
conception  might  have  a  grievance  against  me  just  as  seed 
might  complain  of  its  soil.  But  then  I  hope  that  through 
this  publication  it  will  reach  someone  better  fitted  to 
develop  it  than  I  am. 

I  have  tried,  then,  to  outline  a  pure  sociology.     This  is 

1  They  have  been  modified,  or  amplified,  as  Chapters  I,  III,  IV,  V. 
Chapter  I  was  published  in  September,  1882;  Chapter  III,  in  1884; 
Chapter  IV,  in  October  and  November,  1883;  Chapter  V,  in  1888. 
Several  other  sociological  articles  were  published  in  the  same  collection 
and  were  also  intended  for  future  revision,  but  it  has  seemed  unneces- 
sary to  embody  them  in  this  volume. 

In  another  work,  La  Philosophie  penale,  I  have  developed  the  applica- 
tion of  my  point  of  view  to  social  crime  and  punishment.  My  Crimi- 
nalite  comparee  is  an  earlier  attempt  in  the  same  direction. 


x  Preface  to  the  First  Edition 

tantamount  to  saying  a  general  sociology.  The  laws  of 
such  a  science,  as  I  understand  it,  apply  to  every  society, 
past,  present,  or  future,  just  as  the  laws  of  general  physi- 
ology apply  to  every  species,  living,  extinct,  or  conceivable. 
The  simplicity  of  such  principles  equals  their  generality, 
and  I  grant  that  it  is  much  easier  to  lay  them  down  and  even 
to  prove  them,  than  to  follow  them  through  the  labyrinth 
of  their  particular  applications.  Their  formulation  is 
nevertheless  necessary. 

Formerly,  a  philosophy  of  history  or  nature  meant  a  nar- 
row system  of  historical  or  scientific  interpretation.  It 
sought  to  explain  the  whole  group  or  series  of  historic  facts 
or  natural  phenomena,  as  presented  in  some  inevitable  order 
or  sequence.  Such  attempts  were  bound  to  fail.  The 
actual  can  be  explained  only  as  a  part  of  the  vast  contingent, 
that  is,  of  that  which,  given  certain  conditions,  is  necessary. 
In  this  it  swims,  like  a  star  in  infinite  space.  The  very 
idea  of  law  rests  upon  the  conception  of  such  a  firmament 
of  facts. 

Given  certain  unknown  primordial  conditions,  existence 
was,  of  course,  bound  to  be  as  it  is.  But  why  were  these 
conditions  given  and  no  others?  There  is  something  irra- 
tional here  at  the  bottom  of  the  inevitable.  Moreover,  in 
the  worlds  of  life  and  matter,  as  well  as  in  that  of  society, 
the  actual  seems  to  be  a  mere  fragment  of  the  potential. 
Witness  the  character  of  the  heavens,  dotted  arbitrarily 
with  suns  and  nebulae.  Witness  the  strange  nature  of  cer- 
tain faunas  and  floras.  Witness  the  distorted  and  disjointed 
aspects  of  those  societies  that  lie  heaped  up  side  by  side 
under  social  ruins  and  abortions.  In  this  respect,  as  in  many 
others  which  I  shall  indicate  in  passing,  the  three  great  divi- 
sions of  existence  are  very  much  alike. 

Chapter  V,  on  the  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation,  is  merely 
the  toothing-stone  of  a  future  work  which  is  intended  to 
complete  this  one.  A  proper  development  of  the  subject 
would  have  led  me  beyond  the  limits  of  this  volume. 

The  ideas  which  I  have  presented  may  supply  new  solu- 
tions for  the  political  or  other  questions  upon  which  we  now1 


Preface  to  the  First  Edition  xi 

stand  divided.  But  it  seemed  to  me  that  it  was  unnecessary 
to  undertake  to  deduce  them.  It  would,  moreover,  have 
taken  me  away  from  my  immediate  subject.  Nor  will  the 
class  of  readers  for  whom  I  am  writing  reproach  me  for 
resisting  the  charm  of  such  concrete  subjects.  Besides,  I 
could  not  have  succumbed  to  it  without  going  beyond  the 
limits  of  this  work. 

One  word  more  in  justification  of  my  dedication.  I  am 
not  the  pupil,  or  even  the  disciple,  of  Cournot.  I  have  never 
met  him.  But  I  take  it  as  one  of  the  happy  chances  of  my 
life  that  I  read  a  great  deal  of  this  writer  after  I  left  college. 
I  have  often  thought  that  he  needed  only  to  have  been  born 
in  England  or  Germany  and  to  have  had  his  work  trans- 
lated into  a  French  teeming  with  solecisms  to  be  famous 
among  us  all.  Above  all,  I  shall  never  forget  that  at  a  dreary 
period  of  my  youth,  when  I  was  suffering  from  my  eyes, 
and  limited  of  necessity  to  one  book,  it  was  Cournot  who 
saved  me  from  mental  starvation.  But  I  shall  certainly 
be  ridiculed  unless  I  add  another  much  less  disinterested 
sentiment  to  this  old-fashioned  one  of  intellectual  gratitude. 
If  my  book  fail  of  a  welcome, — a  contingency  for  which  a 
philosopher  must  always  be  prepared  in  France,  even  if  he 
have  hitherto  had  but  to  congratulate  himself  upon  the  good 
will  of  the  public, — this  dedication  will  prove  a  consolation 
to  me.  Cournot  was  the  Sainte-Beuve  of  philosophic  crit- 
icism; possessed  of  originality  and  discrimination,  he  was  a 
thinker  of  universal  erudition  as  well  as  insight;  he  was  a 
profound  geometrician,  an  unparalleled  logician,  and  as  an 
economist  he  was  the  unrecognised  precursor  of  modern 
economists;  to  sum  it  all  up,  Cournot  was  an  Auguste 
Comte,  purified,  condensed,  and  refined.  In  realising,  then, 
that  such  a  man  continued  to  be  obscure  during  his  lifetime, 
and  that  even  since  his  death  he  has  not  been  very  well 
known,  in  realising  this  how  could  I  ever  dare  to  complain 
of  not  having  had  greater  success? 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND   EDITION 

SINCE  the  first  edition  of  this  book  I  have  published  its 
sequel  and  complement  under  the  title  of  La  Logique  sociale. 

In  saying  this  I  think  that  I  have  implicitly  answered 
certain  objections  which  the  reader  of  The  Laws  of  Imita- 
tion might  have  raised.  However,  it  will  not  be  useless 
to  give  a  few  brief  points  of  explanation  on  this  subject. 

I  have  been  criticised  here  and  there  "  for  having  often 
called  by  the  name  of  imitation  certain  facts  which  this  name 
did  not  at  all  fit."  This  criticism,  coming  from  a  philo- 
sophic pen,  astonishes  me.  In  fact,  when  a  philosopher 
needs  a  word  to  express  a  new  generalisation,  he  must 
choose  between  two  things;  he  must  choose  a  neologism,  if 
he  is  put  to  it,  or  he  must  decide,  and  this  is  unquestionably 
better,  to  stretch  the  meaning  of  some  old  term.  The  whole 
question  is  one  of  finding  out  whether  I  have  overstretched 
— I  do  not  say  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  dictionary  def- 
inition, but  from  that  of  a  deeper  conception  of  things — the 
meaning  of  the  word  imitation. 

Now  I  am  well  aware  that  I  am  not  conforming  to  ordi- 
nary usage  when  I  say  that  when  a  man  unconsciously  and 
involuntarily  reflects  the  opinion  of  others,  or  allows  an 
action  of  others  to  be  suggested  to  him,  he  imitates  this  idea 
or  act.  And  yet,  if  he  knowingly  and  deliberately  borrows 
some  trick  of  thought  or  action  from  his  neighbour,  people 
agree  that  in  this  case  the  use  of  the  word  in  question  is 
legitimate.  Nothing,  however,  is  less  scientific  that  the 
establishment  of  this  absolute  separation,  of  this  abrupt 
break,  between  the  voluntary  and  the  involuntary,  between 
the  conscious  and  the  unconscious.  Do  we  not  pass  by 
insensible  degrees  from  deliberate  volition  to  almost  me- 
chanical habit?  And  does  the  same  act  absolutely  change 
its  nature  during  this  transition?  I  do  not  mean  to  say 


xiv  Preface  to  the  Second  Edition 

that  I  deny  the  importance  of  the  psychological  change  that 
is  produced  in  this  way.  But  on  its  social  side  the  phe- 
nomenon has  remained  the  same.  No  one  has  a  right  to 
criticise  the  extension  of  the  meaning  of  the  word  in 
question  as  unjustifiable  unless  in  extending  it  I  have  de- 
formed or  obscured  its  sense.  But  I  have  always  given  it 
a  very  precise  and  characteristic  meaning,  that  of  the  action 
at  a  distance  of  one  mind  upon  another,  and  of  action  which 
consists  of  a  quasi-photographic  reproduction  of  a  cerebral 
image  upon  the  sensitive  plate  of  another  brain.1  If  the 
photographic  plate  became  conscious  at  a  given  mo- 
ment of  what  was  happening  to  it,  would  the  nature  of 
the  phenomenon  be  essentially  changed?  By  imitation  I 
mean  every  impression  of  an  inter-psychical  photography, 
so  to  speak,  willed  or  not  willed,  passive  or  active.  If  we 
observe  that  wherever  there  is  a  social  relation  between  two 
living  beings,  there  we  have  imitation  in  this  sense  of  the 
word  (either  of  one  by  the  other  or  of  others  by  both,  when, 
for  example,  a  man  converses  with  another  in  a  common 
language,  making  new  verbal  proofs  from  very  old  nega- 
tives), we  shall  have  to  admit  that  a  sociologist  was  justified 
in  taking  this  notion  as  a  look-out  post. 

I  might  have  been  much  more  justly  criticised  for  having 
overstretched  the  meaning  of  the  word  invention.  I  have 
certainly  applied  this  name  to  all  individual  initiatives,  not 
only  without  considering  the  extent  in  which  they  are  self- 
conscious — for  the  individual  often  innovates  unconsciously, 
and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  most  imitative  man  is  an  inno- 
vator on  some  side  or  other — but  without  paying  the  slight- 
est attention  in  the  world  to  the  degree  of  difficulty  or  merit 
of  the  innovation  in  question.  This  is  not  because  I  have 
failed  to  recognise  the  importance  of  this  last  consideration. 
Some  inventions  are  so  easy  to  conceive  of  that  we  may 
admit  the  fact  that  they  have  arisen  of  themselves,  without 

1  Or  of  the  same  brain,  if  it  is  a  question  of  imitation  of  self ;  for 
memory  or  habit,  its  two  branches,  must  be  connected,  in  order  to  be 
well  understood,  with  imitation  of  others',  the  only  kind  of  imitation 
which  we  are  concerned  with  here.  The  psychological  is  explained  by 
the  social  just  because  the  social  sprang  from  the  psychological. 


Preface  to  the  Second  Edition  xv 

borrowing,  in  almost  all  primitive  societies,  and  that  their 
first  accidental  appearance  here  or  there  has  little  signifi- 
cance. Other  discoveries,  on  the  contrary,  are  so  difficult 
that  the  happy  advent  of  the  genius  who  made  them 
may  be  considered  a  pre-eminently  singular  and  important 
chance  of  fortune.  Well,  in  spite  of  all  this,  I  think 
that  even  here  I  have  been  justified  in  doing  some  slight 
violence  to  common  speech  in  characterising  as  inventions 
or  discoveries  the  most  simple  innovations,  all  the  more 
so  because  the  easiest  are  not  always  the  least  fruitful  nor 
the  most  difficult  the  least  useless.  What  is  really  unjusti- 
fiable, on  the  other  hand,  is  the  elastic  meaning  that  is  given 
by  many  naturalistic  sociologists  to  the  word  heredity. 
They  use  this  word  indifferently  to  express  the  transmission 
of  vital  characteristics  through  reproduction  and  the  trans- 
mission of  ideas  and  customs,  of  social  things,  by  ancestral 
tradition,  by  domestic  education,  and  by  custom-imitation. 

Let  me  add  that  a  neologism  from  the  Greek  would  have 
been  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  conceive  of.  Instead 
of  saying  invention  or  imitation  I  might  have  readily  forged 
two  new  words.  Now  let  me  dismiss  this  petty  and  unin- 
teresting quibble.  I  have  been  sometimes  charged  with 
exaggeration,  and  this  is  a  more  serious  thing,  in  the  use  of 
the  two  notions  in  question.  It  is  rather  a  commonplace 
criticism,  to  be  sure,  and  one  which  every  innovator  must 
expect  even  when  he  has  erred  on  the  side  of  too  much  re- 
serve in  the  expression  of  his  thoughts.  We  may  be  sure 
that  if  a  Greek  philosopher  had  undertaken  to  say  that  the 
sun  might  possibly  be  as  big  as  the  Peloponnesus,  his  best 
friends  would  have  been  unanimous  in  recognising  the  fact 
that  there  was  something  true  at  the  bottom  of  his  ingenious 
paradox,  but  that  he  was  evidently  exaggerating.  In  gen- 
eral, my  critics  did  not  consider  the  end  which  I  had  in 
view.  I  desired  to  unfold  the  purely  sociological  side  of 
human  facts,  intentionally  ignoring  their  biological  side, 
although  I  am  well  aware  that  the  latter  is  inseparable  from 
the  former.  My  plan  allowed  me  to  indicate,  without  devel- 
oping to  any  extent,  the  relations  of  the  three  principal 


xvi  Preface  to  the  Second  Edition 

forms  of  universal  repetition,  especially  the  relation  of 
heredity  to  imitation.  But  I  have  said  enough,  I  think,  to 
leave  no  doubt  as  to  my  views  on  the  importance  of  race  and 
physical  environment. 

Besides,  if  I  say  that  the  distinctive  character  of  every 
social  relation,  of  every  social  fact,  is  to  be  imitated,  is 
this  saying,  as  certain  superficial  readers  have  seemed  to 
believe,  that  in  my  eyes  there  is  no  social  relation,  no 
social  fact,  no  social  cause,  but  imitation?  One  might 
as  well  say  that  every  function  of  life  could  be  reduced  to 
reproduction  and  every  vital  phenomenon  to  heredity  be- 
cause in  every  living  being  everything  is  a  matter  of  genera- 
tion and  inheritance.  Social  relations  are  as  manifold,  as 
numerous,  and  as  diverse,  as  the  objects  of  the  desires  and 
ideas  of  man,  and  as  the  helps  or  hindrances  that  each  of 
these  desires  and  ideas  lends  or  presents  to  the  similar  or 
dissimilar  tendencies  and  opinions  of  others.  In  the  midst 
of  this  infinite  complexity  we  may  note  that  these  varied 
social  relations  (talking  and  listening,  beseeching  and  being 
beseeched,  commanding  and  obeying,  producing  and  con- 
suming, etc.)  belong  to  two  groups;  the  one  tends  to 
transmit  from  one  man  to  another,  persuasively  or  authori- 
tatively, willingly  or  unwillingly,  a  belief;  the  other,  a  desire. 
In  other  words,  the  first  group  consists  of  various  kinds  or 
degrees  of  instruction;  the  second,  of  various  kinds  or  de- 
grees of  command.  And  it  is  precisely  because  the 
human  acts  which  are  imitated  have  this  dogmatic  or  com- 
manding character  that  imitation  is  a  social  tie,  for  it  is 
either  dogma1  or  power  which  binds  men  together.  (Peo- 
ple have  seen  only  the  half  of  this  truth,  and  seen  that  badly, 
when  they  have  said  that  social  facts  were  distinguished 
by  their  constrained  and  coercive  character.  In  saying 
this,  they  have  failed  to  recognise  the  spontaneity  of  the 
greater  part  of  popular  credulity  and  docility.) 

Therefore  I  think  that  I  have  not  erred  through  exag- 

1  Dogma,  that  is  to  say,  any  idea,  religious  or  otherwise,  political,  fot 
example,  which  takes  root  in  the  mind  of  any  social  unit  through  the 
pressure  of  his  environment. 


Preface  to  the  Second  Edition  xvii 

geration  in  this  book;  and  so  I  have  reprinted  it  without 
eliminating  anything.  I  have  sinned  rather  through  omis- 
sion. I  have  said  nothing  at  all  about  a  form  of  imitation 
which  plays  a  big  role  in  societies,  particularly  in  contempo- 
rary societies,  and  I  shall  make  haste  here  to  make  good  this 
omission.  There  are  two  ways  of  imitating,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  namely,  to  act  exactly  like  one's  model,  or  to  do 
exactly  the  contrary.  Hence  the  necessity  of  those  diver- 
gences which  Spencer  points  out,  without  explaining,  in  his 
law  of  progressive  differentiation.  Nothing  can  be  affirmed 
without  suggesting,  no  matter  how  simple  the  social  en- 
vironment, not  only  the  idea  that  is  affirmed,  but  the  nega- 
tion of  this  idea  as  well.  This  is  the  reason  why  the 
supernatural,  in  asserting  itself  through  theologies,  suggests 
naturalism,  its  negation.  (See  Espinas  on  this  subject.) 
This  is  the  reason  why  the  affirmation  of  idealism  gives 
birth  to  the  idea  of  materialism;  why  the  establishment  of 
monarchy  engenders  the  idea  of  republicanism,  etc. 

Let  us  say,  then,  from  this  wider  point  of  view,  that  a 
society  is  a  group  of  people  who  display  many  resemblances 
produced  either  by  imitation  or  by  counter-imitation.  For 
men  often  counter-imitate  one  another,  particularly  when 
they  have  neither  the  modesty  to  imitate  directly  nor  the 
power  to  invent.  In  counter-imitating  one  another,  that  is 
to  say,  in  doing  or  saying  the  exact  opposite  of  what  they 
observe  being  done  or  said,  they  are  becoming  more  and 
more  assimilated,  just  as  much  assimilated  as  if  they  did  or 
said  precisely  what  was  being  done  or  said  around  them. 
Next  to  conforming  to  custom  in  the  matter  of  funerals, 
marriages,  visits,  and  manners,  there  is  nothing  more  imita- 
tive than  fighting  against  one's  natural  inclination  to  follow 
the  current  of  these  things,  or  than  pretending  to  go  against 
it.  In  the  Middle  Ages  the  black  mass  arose  from  a  counter- 
imitation  of  the  Catholic  mass.  In  his  book  on  the  expres- 
sion of  the  emotions,  Darwin  very  properly  gives  a  large 
place  to  the  need  of  counter-expression. 

When  a  dogma  is  proclaimed,  when  a  political  pro- 
gramme is  announced,  men  fall  into  two  unequal  classes  ; 


xviii          Preface  to  the  Second  Edition 

there  are  those  who  are  enthusiastic  about  it  and  those  who 
are  not  enthusiastic.  There  is  no  manifestation  which  does 
not  recruit  supporters  and  which  does  not  provoke  the  for- 
mation of  a  group  of  non-supporters.  Every  positive  affir- 
mation, at  the  same  time  that  it  attracts  to  itself  mediocre 
and  sheep-like  minds,  arouses  somewhere  or  other  in  a  brain 
that  is  naturally  rebellious, — this  does  not  mean  naturally 
inventive, — a  negation  that  is  diametrically  opposite  and  of 
about  equal  strength.  This  reminds  one  of  inductive 
currents  in  physics.  But  both  kinds  of  brains  have  the  same 
content  of  ideas  and  purposes.  They  are  associated,  although 
they  are  adversaries,  or,  rather,  because  they  are  adver- 
saries. Let  us  clearly  distinguish  between  the  imitative 
propagation  of  questions  and  that  of  solutions.  Because 
a  certain  solution  spreads  in  one  place  and  another  else- 
where, this  does  not  prevent  the  problem  from  having 
spread  in  both  places.  Is  it  not  evident  that  in  every  period, 
among  people  in  constant  communication,  particularly  in 
our  own  day  because  international  relations  have  never  be- 
fore been  so  manifold,  is  it  not  evident  that  the  calendar 
of  social  and  political  debates  is  always  the  same?  And 
is  not  this  resemblance  due  to  a  current  of  imitation 
that  may  itself  be  explained  by  a  diffusion  of  wants  and 
ideas  through  prior  contagions  of  imitation?  Is  not  this 
the  reason  why  labour  questions  are  being  agitated  at  the 
present  moment  throughout  Europe?  No  opinion  is  dis- 
cussed by  the  press,  about  which,  I  repeat,  the  public  is  not 
daily  divided  into  two  camps,  those  who  agree  with  the 
opinion  and  those  who  disagree.  But  the  latter  as  well  as 
the  former  admit  that  it  is  impossible  to  be  concerned  for 
the  time  being  with  anything  other  than  the  question  which 
is  thus  forced  upon  them.  Only  some  wild  and  undisciplined 
spirit  will  ruminate,  now  and  then,  in  the  whirl  of  the  social 
sea  in  which  he  is  plunged,  over  strange  and  absolutely 
hypothetical  problems.  Such  men  are  the  inventors  of  the 
future. 

We  must  be  very  careful  not  to  confuse  counter-imitation 
with  invention,  its  dangerous  counterfeit.     I  do  not  mean 


Preface  to  the  Second  Edition  xix 

that  the  former  is  worthless.  Although  it  fosters  the  spirit 
of  partisanship,  the  spirit  of  either  peaceful  or  warlike  divi- 
sion between  men,  it  introduces  them  to  the  wholly  social 
pleasure  of  discussion.  It  is  a  witness  to  the  sympathetic 
origin  of  contradiction  itself;  the  back  currents  themselves 
are  caused  by  the  current.  Nor  must  we  confuse  counter- 
imitation  with  systematic  non-imitation,  a  subject  about 
which  I  should  also  have  spoken  in  this  book.  Non-imi- 
tation is  not  always  a  simple  negative  fact.  The  fact  of  not 
imitating  when  there  is  no  contact — no  social  contact 
through  the  practical  impossibility  of  communication — is 
merely  a  non-social  relation,  but  the  fact  of  not  imitating 
the  neighbour  who  is  in  touch  with  us,  puts  us  upon  a  foot- 
ing of  really  anti-social  relations  with  him.  The  refusal  of 
a  people,  a  class,  a  town  or  a  village,  of  a  savage  tribe  iso- 
lated on  a  civilised  continent,  to  copy  the  dress,  customs, 
language,  industry,  and  arts  which  make  up  the  civilisation 
of  their  neighbourhood  is  a  continual  declaration  of  antip- 
athy to  the  form  of  society  in  question.  It  is  thereby  de- 
clared absolutely  and  forever  alien.  Similarly,  when  a  peo- 
ple deliberately  undertakes  not  to  reproduce  the  examples  of 
its  forefathers  in  the  matter  of  rights,  usages,  and  ideas,  we 
have  a  veritable  disassociation  of  fathers  and  sons,  a  rupture 
of  the  umbilical  cord  between  the  old  and  the  new  society. 
Voluntary  and  persistent  non-imitation  in  this  sense  has  a 
purgative  role  which  is  quite  analagous  to  that  rilled  by  what 
I  have  called  the  logical  duel.  Just  as  the  latter  tends  to 
purge  the  social  mass  of  mixed  ideas  and  volitions,  to  elimi- 
nate inequalities  and  discords,  and  to  facilitate  in  this  way 
the  synthetic  action  of  the  logical  union;  so  non-imitation 
of  extraneous  and  heterogeneous  models  makes  it  possible 
for  the  harmonious  group  of  home  models  to  extend  and 
prolong  themselves,  to  entrench  themselves  in  the  custom- 
imitation  of  which  they  are  the  object;  and  for  the  same 
reason  non-imitation  of  anterior  models,  when  the  moment 
has  come  for  civilising  revolution,  cuts  a  path  for  fashion- 
imitation.  It  no  longer  finds  any  hindrance  in  the  way  of 
its  conquering  activity. 


xx  Preface  to  the  Second  Edition 

Is  the  unique  or  principal  cause  of  this  invincible  obsti- 
nacy— momentarily  invincible — of  non-imitation,  as  the 
naturalistic  school  was  led  to  think  some  years  ago,  racial 
difference?  Not  the  least  in  the  world.  In  the  first  place, 
in  the  case  of  non-imitation  of  ancestral  examples,  in  revolu- 
tionary periods,  it  is  clear  that  this  cause  could  not  be 
brought  forward,  since  the  new  generation  belongs  to  the 
same  race  as  the  prior  generations  whose  traditions  it  casts 
aside.  Then,  in  the  case  of  non-imitation  of  the  foreigner, 
historical  observation  shows  that  resistance  to  outside  in- 
fluences is  very  far  from  being  in  proportion  to  the  dis- 
similarities of  the  physical  traits  which  differentiate  popula- 
tions. Of  all  the  nations  conquered  by  Rome  none  was 
more  allied  to  her  through  blood  than  the  populations  of 
Greek  origin;  and  yet  these  were  precisely  the  communities 
where  her  language  failed  to  spread  and  where  her  culture 
and  genius  failed  to  be  assimilated.  Why  was  this?  Because 
they  alone,  in  spite  of  their  defeat,  were  able  to  retain  their 
fierce  pride,  their  indelible  feeling  of  superiority.  On  the 
side  of  the  idea  that  it  is  impossible  for  separate  races  to 
borrow  from  one  another  one  of  the  strongest  arguments 
that  could  have  been  cited  thirty  years  ago  was  the  hermet- 
ical  shutting  out  by  the  peoples  of  the  Far  East,  Japan  and 
China,  of  all  European  culture.  But  from  the  still  recent 
day  when  the  Japanese,  foreign  as  they  were  to  us  in  colour, 
lineaments,  and  physical  constitution,  felt  for  the  first  time 
that  we  were  their  superiors,  they  left  off  trying  to  shut  out 
the  imitative  radiation  of  our  civilisation  by  the  opaque 
screen  they  had  used  before.  They  gave  it,  on  the  contrary, 
the  warmest  of  welcomes.  The  same  thing  will  happen  to 
China  if  she  ever  makes  up  her  mind  to  recognise  that  in 
certain  respects — not  in  all,  I  hope,  for  her  sake — we  have 
the  better  of  her.  It  is  idle  to  argue  that  the  transforma- 
tion of  Japan  in  the  direction  of  Europe  is  more  apparent 
than  real,  more  superficial  than  deep,  that  it  is  due  to  the 
initiative  of  certain  intelligent  men  who  are  followed  by  a 
part  of  the  upper  classes,  but  that  the  great  mass  of  the 
nation  remains  hostile  to  this  foreign  inundation.  To 


Preface  to  the  Second  Edition  xxi 

argue  after  this  fashion  is  to  ignore  the  fact  that  every  intel- 
lectual and  moral  revolution  that  is  destined  to  utterly  recast 
a  people  always  begins  in  this  way.  A  chosen  few  have 
always  imported  the  foreign  examples  that  come  little  by 
little  to  spread  by  fashion,  to  be  consolidated  into  custom, 
and  to  be  developed  and  systematised  by  social  logic.  When 
Christianity  first  reached  the  Germans,  the  Slavs,  the  Finns, 
it  started  in  the  same  way.  Nothing  is  more  consistent  with 
the  "  laws  of  imitation." 

Does  this  mean  that  the  action  of  race  upon  the  course 
of  civilisation  is  overlooked  from  my  point  of  view  ?  Not  at 
all.  I  have  said  that  in  passing  from  one  ethnical  environ- 
ment to  another  the  radiation  of  imitation  is  refracted;  and 
I  add  that  this  refraction  may  be  enormous  without  its  lead- 
ing to  any  consequence  that  is  in  the  least  contradictory  to 
the  ideas  developed  in  this  book.  Only  race  as  I  see  it  is  a 
national  product  where,  in  the  crucible  of  a  special  civilisa- 
tion, different  prehistoric  races  have  been  melted  together, 
intermingled,  and  assimilated.  For  every  given  civilisation 
that  is  formed  of  ideas  of  genius,  hailing  a  little  from  every- 
where and  brought  into  logical  agreement  somewhere  or 
other,  creates  in  the  long  run  the  race,  or  races,  in  which 
it  is  for  a  time  embodied;  and  the  inverse  of  this  is  not  true, 
namely,  that  every  race  makes  its  own  civilisation.  This 
means,  at  bottom,  that  different  human  races,  which  are 
quite  different  in  this  respect  from  different  living  species, 
are  collaborators  as  well  as  competitors ;  that  they  are  called 
upon  not  only  to  fight  and  destroy  each  other  for  the  good 
of  a  small  number  of  survivors,  but  to  aid  each  other  in  the 
age-long  achievement  of  a  common  social  work,  of  a  great 
final  society  whose  unity  will  be  the  fruit  of  their  very  diver- 
sity. 

The  laws  of  heredity  that  have  been  so  well  studied  by 
naturalists  do  not  contradict  in  any  respect  the  "  laws  of 
imitation."  On  the  other  hand,  they  complete  them,  and 
there  is  no  concrete  sociology  that  could  separate  these  two 
orders  of  consideration.  If  I  separate  them  here,  it  is,  I  re- 
peat, because  the  proper  subject  of  this  work  is  sociology 


xxii  Preface  to  the  Second  Edition 

pure  and  abstract.  Besides,  I  do  not  fail  to  point  out  what 
their  place  is  in  the  biological  considerations  which  I  am  pur- 
posely ignoring  because  I  am  leaving  them  to  more  compe- 
tent hands.  And  this  place  is  three-fold.  To  begin  with,  in 
expressly  developing  the  nation  from  the  family — for  the 
primitive  horde  is  made  up  of  emigrants  or  exiles  from  the 
family — I  have  clearly  affirmed  that  if  the  social  fact  is  a  re- 
lation of  imitation,  the  social  tie,  the  social  group,  is  both  imi- 
tative and  hereditary,  in  the  second  place,  invention,  from 
which  I  derive  everything  thac  is  social,  is  not,  in  my 
opinion,  a  purely  social  fact  in  its  origin.  It  arises  from  the 
intersection  of  an  individual  genius,  an  intermittent  and 
characteristic  racial  product,  the  ripe  fruit  of  a  series  of 
happy  marriages,  with  the  currents  and  radiations  of  imi- 
tation which  one  day  happened  to  cross  each  other  in  a  more 
or  less  exceptional  brain.  You  may  agree,  if  you  wish, 
with  M.  de  Gobineau,  that  only  the  white  races  are  invent- 
ive, or  with  a  contemporary  anthropologist,  that  this  privi- 
lege belongs  exclusively  to  the  dolichocephalic  races — all 
this  matters  little  from  my  point  of  view.  And  I  might  even 
pretend  that  the  radical  and  vital  separation  that  is  thus 
established  between  the  inventiveness  of  certain  privileged 
races  and  the  imitativeness  of  all  races  is  fitted  to  empha- 
sise, a  little  unjustifiably,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  truth  of 
my  point  of  view.  Finally,  I  have  not  only  recognised  the 
influence  of  the  vital  environment  upon  imitation,  an  envi- 
ronment in  which  it  spreads  while  it  is  refracted,  as  I  said 
above,  but  in  stating  the  law  of  the  normal  return  of  fashion 
to  custom,  the  rooting  of  innovations  in  customs  and  tradi- 
tions, have  I  not  again  made  heredity  the  necessary  prop 
of  imitation?  But  we  may  accord  to  the  biological  side 
of  social  facts  the  highest  importance  without  going  as  far 
as  to  maintain  that  there  is  a  water-tight  bulkhead  between 
different  races,  presumably  primitive  and  presocial,  which 
makes  any  endosmosis  or  exosmosis  of  imitation  impossible. 
And  this  is  the  only  thing  which  I  deny.  Taken  in  this 
false  and  unjustifiable  sense,  the  idea  of  race  leads  the  soci- 
ologist who  has  taken  it  for  a  guide  to  conceive  of  the  end 


Preface  to  the  Second  Edition  xxiii 

of  social  progress  as  a  disintegration  of  peoples  who  are 
walled  about  and  shut  off  from  one  another  and  everlast- 
ingly at  war  with  one  another.  This  kind  of  naturalism 
is  generally  associated  with  a  defence  of  militarism.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  we  take  the  ideas  of  invention,  imitation, 
and  social  logic  as  a  guiding  thread,  we  are  led  to  the  more 
reassuring  perspective  of  a  great  future  confluence — alas, 
that  it  is  not  immediate — of  multiple  divisions  of  mankind 
into  a  single  peaceful  human  family.  The  idea  of  indefinite 
progress,  which  is  such  a  vague  and  obstinate  idea,  has  nei- 
ther a  clear  nor  precise  meaning  except  from  this  point  of 
view.  The  necessity  of  a  progressive  march  towards  a  great 
but  distant  goal  is  an  outcome  of  the  laws  of  imitation.  This 
goal,  which  becomes  more  and  more  accessible  in  spite  of 
apparent,  although  only  transitory,  set-backs,  is  the  birth, 
the  development,  and  the  universal  spread, — whether  under 
an  imperial  or  federated  form  is  insignificant, — of  a  unique 
society.  And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  among  all  the  predic- 
tions of  Condorcet  relating  to  social  progress,  the  only  ones 
that  have  been  realised — that,  for  example,  relating  to  the 
extension  and  gradual  levelling  down  of  European  civilisa- 
tion— are  consequences  of  the  laws  in  question.  But  if  he 
had  considered  these  laws  he  would  have  expressed  his 
thought  more  exactly  and  precisely.  When  he  predicts 
that  the  inequality  of  different  nations  will  continue  to 
diminish,  he  should  have  said  social  dissimilarity,  and  not; 
inequality.  For  between  the  smallest  and  largest  states  the 
disproportion  of  power,  of  territory,  and  even  of  wealth, 
goes  on  increasing,  and  yet  this  condition  does  not  stand 
in  the  way  of  a  constant  progress  of  international  assimi- 
lation. And  is  it  certain  that  inequality  between  individ- 
uals must  continually  diminish  in  all  respects  as  our  illus- 
trious philosopher  also  predicted?  Inequality  of  genius  or 
talent?  Not  at  all.  Of  comfort  and  wealth?  I  doubt  it. 
It  is  true  that  their  inequality  before  the  law  has  disappeared 
or  will  before  long  disappear  altogether.  But  why  is  this 
so?  Because  the  growing  resemblance  of  individuals  be- 
tween whom  all  the  customary  barriers  of  reciprocal  imita- 


xxiv  Preface  to  the  Second  Edition 

tion  have  been  broken  down,  and  who  imitate  one  another 
more  and  more  freely,  to  be  sure,  and  yet  more  and  more 
necessarily,  makes  them  feel  with  a  growing  and,  eventually, 
irresistible  power  the  injustice  of  privilege. 

Let  us  be  sure,  however,  that  we  understand  one  another 
about  this  progressive  resemblance  of  individuals.  Far 
from  smothering  their  true  originality,  it  fosters  and  favours 
it.  What  is  contrary  to  personal  pre-eminence  is  the  imita- 
tion of  a  single  man  whom  people  copy  in  everything.  But 
when,  instead  of  patterning  one's  self  after  one  person  or 
after  a  few,  we  borrow  from  a  hundred,  a  thousand,  or  ten 
thousand  persons,  each  of  whom  is  considered  under  a  par- 
ticular aspect,  the  elements  of  thought  or  action  which  we 
subsequently  combine,  the  very  nature  and  choice  of  these 
elementary  copies,  as  well  as  their  combination,  expresses 
and  accentuates  our  original  personality.  And  this  is,  per- 
haps, the  chief  benefit  that  results  from  the  prolonged 
action  of  imitation.  We  might  demand  to  what  extent  this 
collective  dream,  this  collective  nightmare  of  society,  was 
worth  its  cost  in  blood  and  tears,  if  this  grievous  discipline, 
this  deceptive  and  despotic  prestige,  did  not  serve  to  free 
the  individual  in  calling  forth,  little  by  little,  from  the 
depths  of  his  heart,  his  freest  impulses,  his  boldest  introspec- 
tion, his  keenest  insight  into  nature,  and  in  developing 
everywhere,  not  the  savage  individualities,  not  the  clashing 
and  brutal  soul-stuffs  of  bygone  days,  but  those  deep  and 
harmonious  traits  of  the  soul  that  are  characteristic  of  per- 
sonality as  well  as  of  civilisation,  the  harvest  of  both  the 
purest  and  most  potent  individualism  and  of  consummate 
sociability. 

G.  T. 

May,  1895 


CONTENTS 


INTRODUCTION  BY  DR.  HENRY  FRANKLIN  GIDDINGS,    ....     Hi 

PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION, lx 

PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION, xiii 

CHAPTER  I.— UNIVERSAL  REPETITION 

I. — The  overlooked  regularity  from  a  certain  point  of  view  of 
social  facts.  Their  analogies  with  natural  facts.  The  three  forms 
of  Universal  Repetition :  undulation,  generation,  imitation.  Social 
science  and  social  philosophy.  Animal  societies,  I 

II. — Three  analogous  laws  in  physics,  in  biology,  in  sociology. 
WJiy  everything  is  number  and  measure,  .  .  "  .  .  14 

III.  and  IV. — Analogies  between  tne  three  forms  of  Repetition. 
They  imply  a  cqmmon  tendency  towards  a  geometrical  progression. 
Linguistic,  mythological,  etc.,  refractions.  Happy  or  unhappy  in- 
terferences of  imitation.  Conflict-interferences  and  combination- 
interferences  (inventions).  Outline  of  social  logic,  16 

V.— ^Differences  between  the  three  forms  ^f  Rc-nejilir  "  Genera- 
tion is  unconditioned  undulation,  fu.iiai/ou  to  generation  at  a 
distance.  The  abbreviation  of  embryonic  phases,  .  .  .  -33 

-  CHAPTER  II.— SOCIAL  RESEMBLANCES   AND 
IMITATION 

I. — Social  resmblances  which  are  not  caused  by  imitation  and 
vital  resemblances  which  are  not  caused  by  generation.  A  distinc- 
tion between  analogies  and  homologies  in  comparative  sociology 
like  that  in  comparative  anatomy.  A  genealogical  tree  of  inventions 
derived  from  master-inventions.  The  slow  and  inevitable  propaga- 
tion of  examples  even  among  sedentary  and  shut-in  populations,  37 

II. — Is  there  a  law  of  civilisations  which  imposes  upon  them  a 
common  direction  or,  at  least,  a  common  goal,  and,  consequently, 
a  law  of  increasing  resemblances,  even  without  imitation?  Proofs 
of  the  contrary, 51 

CHAPTER  III.— WHAT  IS  A  SOCIETY? 

I. — Inadequacy  of  the  economic  or  even  of  the  juristic  concep- 
tion :  Animal  societies.  Nation  and  society  not  to  be  confused. 

Definition.    , 59 

xxv 


xxvi  Contents 

II.-,  Definition  of  the  social  type, 68 

III.— Perfect  fnrialitv.  Biological  analogies.  The  hidden  and 
perhaps  original  agents  of  universal  repetition,  ....  69 

IV. — An  idea  of  Taine's.  The  contagion  of  ex?mnle  and  sug- 
gestion. Analogies  between  the  social  and  the  hypnotic  state. 
Great  men.  Intimidation  is  a  nasrent  social  state,  ...  74 


CHAPTER     IV.— WHAT     IS   HISTORY?     ARCHEOLOGY 
AND  STATISTICS 

I.  and  II.  —  Distinction  between  the  anthropologists  and  the 
archaeologists.  The  archaeologist  unconsciously  holds  my  point 
of  view.  Barrenness  of  invention  characteristic  of  primitive  times. 
Imitation  has  been  objective  and  widespread  from  the  most  remote 
periods.  What  archaeology  teaches  us, 89 

III. — The  statistician  sees  things,  at  bottom,  like  the  archaeolo- 
gist.    He  pays  exclusive  attention  to  imitative  editions  of  every 
ancient  and  modern  invention.    Analogies  and  differences,      .        .     102 

IV.  and  V. — What  Statistics  ought  to  be;  its  desiderata.  The 
interpretation  of  its  curves,  namely  its  rises,  horizontals,  and  falls, 
is  given  by  my  point  of  view.  The  tendency  of  all  ideas  and  wants 
to  spread  in  a  geometrical  progression.  The  encounter,  coales- 
cence, and  rivalry  of  these  tendencies.  Examples.  The  desire  for 
paternity  and  its  variations.  The  desire  for  liberty  and  other 
desires'.  A  general  empirical  law ;  three  phases ;  importance  of  the 
second,  109 

VI.  and  VII. — The  curves  of  Statistics  and  the  flight  of  a  bird. 
The  eye  and  ear  considered  as  numerical  registers  of  ethereal  and 
sonorous  vibrations',  representative  statistics  of  the  universe.  The 
probable  future  role  of  Statistics.  Definition  of  History,  .  .  132 

CHAPTER  V.— THE  LOGICAL  LAWS  OF  IMITATION 

The  reason  why,  given  a  number  of  inventions,  some  are  imi- 
tated and  some  are  not.    Reasons  of  a  natural  order  and  of  a  social 
order,  and,  among  the  latter,  logical   reasbns   and   ex^ra-logical 
•influences.     A  linguistic  example,       .        ....        .        .        .     140 

.  I. — That  which  is  imitated  is  belief  or  desire,  a  fundamental 
antithesis.  The  Sper<-pn?n  formula.  Social  progress  and  indi- 
vidual thought.  The  need  of  invention  and  the  -need  of  criticism 
have  the  same  source.  Progress  through  the  substitution  and 
progress  through  the  accumulation  of  inventions,  .  .  -  .  .  144 

II. — The  logical  duel.  Everything  in  history  is  a  duel  or  a 
union  of  inventions.  The  one  always  says  yes  and  the  other,  no. 
Linguistic,  legislative,  judicial,  political,  industrial,  artistic  duels. 


Contents  xxvii 

Developments.  Every  duel  is  twofold,  every  adversary  affirming 
his  own  thesis  at  the  same  time  that  he  denies  that  of  his  opponent. 
The  moment  when  the  roles  are  reversed.  The  individual  duel  and 
the  social  duel.  The  denouement:  Three  possible  outcomes,  .  .  154 

III. — The  logical  union.  The  period  of  accumulation  which  pre- 
cedes the  period  of  substitution  must  not  be  confused  with  that 
which  follows  it.  Distinction  between  the  linguistic,  religious, 
political,  etc.,  grammar  and  dictionary.  The  dictionary  enlarges 
more  readily  than  the  grammar  improves, 173 

Other   considerations, 184 

CHAPTER  VI.— EXTRA-LOGICAL  INFLUENCES 

Different  characteristics  of  imitation:  I.  Its  increasing  precision 
and  exactness;  ceremonial  and  procedure.  2.  Its  conscious  or  un- 
conscious character.  The  advance  of  imitation : 

I. — From  the  inner  to  the  outer  man.  Different  physiological 
functions  compared  from  the^point  of  view  of  their  transmissibility 
by  example.  Primitive  obedience  and  credulity.  Dogmas  are 
transmitted  before  rites.  Admiration  precedes  envy.  Ideas  are 
communicated  before  expressions ;  ends,  before  means.  The  ex- 
planation of  survivals  by  this  law.  Its  universality.  Its  application 
even  to  feminine  imitation,  .  .  .  ....  .  .  194 

II. — From  the  superior  to  the  inferior.  Exceptions  to  this  law; 
its  truth  comparable  with  that  which  governs  the  radiation  of 
heat  i.  Examples.  The  martinella  and  carroccio.  The  Phoeni- 
cians and  the  Venetians.  The  utility  of  aristocracies.  2.  Eccle- 
siastical hierarchy  and  its  effects.  3.  The  most  superior,  among 
vhe  least  distant,  is  the  one  imitated.  Distance  in  the  social  sense. 
4.  In  democratic  periods  nobilities  are  replaced  by  great  cities 
which  resemble  them  for  good  and  evil.  5.  In  what  social  super- 
iority consists;  in  subjective  or  objective  characteristics  which 
favor  the  exploitation  of  inventions  at  a  given  time.  6.  Applica- 
tion to  the  problem  of  the  origins  of  the  feudal  system,  .,  f  ,'  213 

CHAPTER  VII.— EXTRA-LOGICAL  INFLUENCES 
(CONTINUED)— CUSTOM   AND   FASHION 

Ages  of  custom  when  the  ancient  model,  paternal  or  patriotic,  is 
supreme ;  ages  of  fashion  when  the  advantage  is  often  with  the  new, 
?xotic  model.  Through  fashion,  imitation  is  set  free  from  genera- 
tion. The  relations  of  imitation  and  generation  are  like  those  of 
generation  and  undulation.  Transition  from  custom  to  fashion 
followed  by  a  return  to  a  broader  custom.  The  application  of  this 
law : 

I.— To  languages.    The  rhythm  of  the  diffusion  of  idioms.    The 


xxviii  Contents 

formation  of  the  Romance  languages.  Characteristics  and  results 

of  the  aforesaid  transformations, 255 

II. — To  religions.  All  religions  proceed  from  exclusivism  to 
proselytism ;  they  then  withdraw  into  themselves.  Reproduction  of 
these  three  phases  from  the  most  remote  periods.  Cult  of  the  for- 
eigner, not  alone  of  the  ancestor,  from  this  time  on.  Worship  of 
the  foreign  beast.  Why  very  ancient  gods  are  soomorphic.  Di- 
vine fauna.  Worship  is  a  kind  of  superior  domestication.  Spirit- 
ualisation  of  religions  which  spread  through  fashion.  Moral 
effects.  The  social  importance  of  religions, 265 

III. — To  governments.  The  twofold  origin  of  states,  the  family 
and  the  horde.  In  every  state,  from  remote  antiquity,  there  have 
been  two  parties,  the  party  pf  custom  and  the  party  of  fashion. 
Frequency  of  the  phenomenon  of  royal  families  of  foreign  blood. 
The  fief  an  invention  propagated  by  fascination;  the  same  true  of 
the  feudal  monarchy;  and  of  the  modern  monarchy.  Liberalism 
and  cosmopolitanism.  The  final  nationalisation  of  foreign  impor- 
tations. The  way  in  which  the  United  States  were  formed. 
Augustus,  Louis  XIV.,  Pericles.  Criticism  of  Spencer's  antith- 
esis between  militarism  and  industrialism  compared  with  that 
of  Tocqueville's  between  aristocracy  and  democracy,  .  .  .  287 

IV. — To  legislations.  Juridical  evolution.  Custom-law  and 
statute-law.  Law  is  very  multiform  and  very  stable  in  times  of 
custom,  very  uniform  and  very  changeable  in  times  of  fashion. 
The  spread  of  charters  from  town  to  town.  Sumner  Maine's 
Ancient  Law.  The  rhythm  of  the  three  phases  applied  to  criminal 
procedure.  Successive  characteristics  of  legislation.  Classifica- 
tion,   310 

V. — To  usages  and  wants  (political  economy).  Multiformity 
and  stability  of  usages.  Subsequent  uniformity  and  rapid  change. 
Production  and  consumption,  a  distinction  universally  applicable. 
The  transmissibility  of  wants  of  consumption  is  always  more  rapid 
than  that  of  the  wants  of  production.  Consequences  of  this  un- 
equal rate.  The  ulterior  outlet  in  times  of  custom,  the  exterior 
outlet  in  times  of  fashion.  Industry  in  the  Middle  Ages.  Order 
of  the  successive  forms  of  extensive  industry.  The  price  of 
fashion  and  the  price  of  custom.  Successive  characteristics  bor- 
rowed from  the  economic  world  and  from  social  aspects  com- 
pared, in  changes  of  imitation.  The  reason  of  these  changes,  .  322 

VI. — To  morals  and  arts.  Duties  are  in  the  beginning  original 
inventions.  Gradual  enlargement  of  the  moral  public  and  of  the 
art  public.  The  art  of  custom  is  born  from  handicraft;  it  is 
professional  and  national.  The  art  of  fashion  is  non-utilitarian 
and  exotic.  Fashion-morality  and  custom-morality.  Future  prob- 
abilities. The  historic  phenonemon  of  renascences,  both  moral 
and  aesthetic,  ....  344 


Contents  xxix 

CHAPTER  VIII.— REMARKS  AND  COROLLARIES 

Summing  up  and  conclusion.  All  the  laws  of  imitation  viewed 
from  the  same  standpoint.  Corollaries, 366 

I. — The  transition  from  the  unilateral  to  the  reciprocal.  Ex- 
amples: from  decree  to  contract;  from  dogma  to  free-thought; 
from  man-hunting  to  war;  from  court  manners  to  urbanity.  The 
necessity  of  these  transformations, 371 

II. — Distinction  between  the  reversible  and  the  irreversible  in 
history.  The  irreversible  in  consequence  of  the  laws  of  imitation, 
and  the  irreversible  in  consequence  of  the  laws  of  invention.  A 
word  in  regard  to  the  latter  subject.  Changes  of  custom  are  in  a 
certain  measure  irreversible  as  well.  Great  empires  of  the  future. 
Final  individualism, 379 


V 
/ 


UNIVERSAL  REPETITION 
I 

CAN  we  have  a  science  or  only  a  history,  or,  at  most,  a 
philosophy  of  social  phenomena?  This  question  is  always 
open.  And  yet,  if  social  facts  are  closely  observed  from  a 
certain  point  of  view,  they  can  be  reduced,  like  other  facts, 
to  series  of  minute  and  homogeneous  phenomena  and  to 
the  formulas,  or  laws,  which  sum  up  these  series.  Why, 
then,  is  the  science  of  society  still  unborn,  or  born  but  re- 
cently, among  all  its  adult  and  vigorous  sister  sciences? 
The  chief  reason  is,  I  think,  that  we  have  thrown  away  the 
substance  for  its  shadow  and  substituted  words  for  things. 
We  have  thought  it  impossible  to  give  a  scientific  look 
to  sociology  except  by  giving  it  a  biological  or,  better 
still,  a  mechanical  air.  This  is  an  attempt  to  light  up  the 
known  by  the  unknown.  It  is  transforming  a  solar  system 
into  a  non-resolvable  nebula  in  order  to  understand  it  better. 
In  social  subjects  we  are  exceptionally  privileged  in  having 
veritable  causes,  positive  and  specific  acts,  at  first  hand;  this 
condition  is  wholly  lacking  in  every  other  subject  of  in- 
vestigation. It  is  unnecessary,  therefore,  to  rely  for  an 
explanation  of  social  facts  upon  those  so-called  general 
causes  which  physicists  and  naturalists  are  obliged  to 
create  under  the  name  of  force,  energy,  conditions  of  ex- 
istence, and  other  verbal  palliatives  of  their  ignorance  of  the 
real  groundwork  of  things. 

But  are  we  to  consider  that  human  acts  are  the  sole  fac- 
tors of  history?  Surely  this  is  too  simple !  And  so  we  bind 
ourselves  to  Contrive  other  causes  on  the  type  of  those  use- 
ful fictions  which  are  elsewhere  imposed  upon  us,  and  we 


2  Laws  of  Imitation 

congratulate  ourselves  upon  being  able  at  times  to  give  an 
entirely  impersonal  colour  to  human  phenomena  by  reason 
of  our  lofty,  but,  truly  speaking,  obscure,  point  of  view.  Let 
us  ward  off  this  vague  idealism.  Let  us  likewise  ward  off 
the  vapid  individualism  which  consists  in  explaining  social 
changes  as  the  caprices  of  certain  great  men.  On  the  other 
hand,  let  us  explain  these  changes  through  the  more  or  less 
fortuitous  appearance,  as  to  time  and  place,  of  certain 
great  ideas,  or  rather,  of  a  considerable  number  of  both 
major  and  minor  ideas,  of  ideas  which  are  generally  anony- 
mous and  usually  of  obscure  birth;  which  are  simple  or 
abstruse;  which  are  seldom  illustrious,  but  which  are  always 
novel.  Because  of  this  latter  attribute,  I  shall  take  the 
liberty  of  baptising  them  collectively  inventions  or  discover- 
ies. By  these  two  terms  I  mean  any  kind  of  an  innovation 
or  improvement,  however  slight,  which  is  made  in  any  pre- 
vious innovation  throughout  the  range  of  social  phenomena 
— language,  religion,  politics,  law,  industry,  or  art.  At  the 
moment  when  this  novel  thing,  big  or  little  as  it  may  be,  is 
conceived  of,  or  determined  by,  an  individual,  nothing  ap- 
pears to  change  in  the  social  body, — just  as  nothing  changes 
in  the  physical  appearance  of  an  organism  which  a  harmful 
or  beneficent  microbe  has  just  invaded, — and  the  gradual 
changes  caused  by  the  introduction  of  the  new  element  seem 
to  follow,  without  visible  break,  upon  the  anterior  social 
changes  into  whose  current  they  have  glided.  Hence  arises 
the  illusion  which  leads  philosophers  of  history  into  affirming 
that  there  is  a  real  and  fundamental  continuity  in  historic 
metamorphoses.  The  true  causes  can  be  reduced  to  a  chain  of 
ideas  which  are,  to  be  sure,  very  numerous,  but  which  are 
in  themselves  distinct  and  discontinuous,  although  they  are 
connected  by  the  much  more  numerous  acts  of  imitation 
which  are  modelled  upon  them. 

Our  starting-point  lies  here  in  the  re-inspiring  initiatives 
which  bring  new  wants,  together  with  new  satisfactions, 
into  the  world,  and  which  then,  through  spontaneous  and 
unconscious  or  artificial  and  deliberate  imitation,  propagate 
or  tend  to  propagate,  themselves,  at  a  more  or  less  rapid, 


Universal   Repetition  3 

but  regular,  rate,  like  a  wave  of  light,  or  like  a  family  of 
termites.  The  regularity  to  which  I  refer  is  not  in  the 
least  apparent  in  social  things  until  they  are  resolved  into 
their  several  elements,  when  it  is  found  to  lie  in  the  simplest 
of  them,  in  combinations  of  distinct  inventions,  in  flashes  of 
genius  which  have  been  accumulated  and  changed  into 
commonplace  lights.  I  confess  that  this  is  an  extremely 
difficult  analysis.  Socially,  everything  is  either  invention 
or  imitation.  And  invention  bears  the  same  relation  to 
imitatio^n  as  a  mountain  to  a  river.  There  is  certainly  noth- 
ing less  subtle  than  this  point  of  view;  but  in  holding  to  it 
boldly  and  unreservedly,  in  exploiting  it  from  the  most 
trivial  detail  to  the  most  complete  synthesis  of  facts,  we  may, 
perhaps,  notice  how  well  fitted  it  is  to  bring  into  relief  all 
the  picturesqueness  and,  at  the  same  time,  all  the  simplicity 
of  history,  and  to  reveal  historic  perspectives  which  may  be 
characterised  by  the  freakishness  of  a  rock-bound  landscape, 
or  by  the  conventionality  of  a  park  walk.  This  is  idealism 
also,  if  you  choose  to  call  it  so;  but  it  is  the  idealism  which 
consists  in  explaining  history  through  the  ideas  of  its 
actors,  not  through  those  of  the  historian. 

If  we  consider  the  science  of  society  from  this  point  of 
view,  we  shall  at  once  see  that  human  sociology  is  related  to 
animal  sociologies,  as  a  species  to  its  genus,  so  to  speak. 
That  it  is  an  extraordinary  and  infinitely  superior  species,  I 
admit,  but  it  is  allied  to  the  others,  nevertheless.  M.  Espinas 
expressly  states  in  his  admirable  work  on  Societes  ani- 
males,  a  work  which  was  written  long  before  the  first  edi- 
tion of  this  book,  that  the  labours  of  ants  may  be  very  well 
explained  on  the  principle  "  of  individual  initiative  followed 
by  imitation"  This  initiative  is  always  an  innovation  or 
invention  that  is  equal  to  one  of  our  own  in  boldness  of 
spirit.  To  conceive  the  idea  of  constructing  an  arch,  or  a 
tunnel,  at  an  appropriate  point,  an  ant  must  be  endowed 
with  an  innovating  instinct  equal  to,  or  surpassing,  that  of 
our  canal-digging  or  mountain-tunnelling  engineers.  Par- 
enthetically it  follows  that  imitation  by  masses  of  ants 
of  such  novel  initiatives  strikingly  belies  the  spirit  of  mutual 


4  Laws  of  Imitation 

hatred  which  is  alleged  to  exist  among  animals.1  M. 
Espinas  is  very  frequently  impressed  in  his  observation  of 
the  societies  of  our  lower  brethren  by  the  important  role 
which  is  played  in  them  by  individual  initiatives.  Every 
herd  of  wild  cattle  has  its  leaders,  its  influential  heads.  De- 
velopments in  the  instincts  of  birds  are  explained  by  the 
same  author  as  "  individual  inventions  which  are  afterwards 
transmitted  from  generation  to  generation  through  direct 
instruction."  2  In  view  of  the  fact  that  modification  of  in- 
stinct is  probably  related  to  the  same  principle  as  the 
genesis  and  modification  of  species,  we  may  be  tempted 
to  enquire  whether  the  principle  of  the  imitation  of  inven- 
tion, or  of  something  physiologically  analogous,  would  not 
be  the  clearest  possible  explanation  of  the  ever-open  problem 
of  the  origin  of  species.  But  let  us  leave  this  question  and 
confine  ourselves  to  the  statement  that  both  animal  and 
human  societies  may  be  explained  from  this  point  of  view. 

In  the  second  place,  and  this  is  the  special  thesis  of  this 
chapter,  the  subject  of  social  science  is  seen,  from  this 
standpoint,  to  present  a  remarkable  analogy  to  the  other 
domains  of  general  science,  and,  in  this  way,  to  become 
re-embodied,  so  to  speak,  in  the  rest  of  the  universe,  where 
it  had  before  this  the  air  of  an  outsider. 

In  every  field  of  study,  affirmations  pure  and  simple  enor- 
mously outnumber  explanations.  And,  in  all  cases,  the 
first  data  are  simply  affirmed;  they  are  the  extraordinary 
and  accidental  facts,  the  premises  and  sources  from  which 
proceeds  all  that  which  is  subsequently  explained.  The 
astronomer  states  that  certain  nebulae,  certain  celestial 

1  Among  the  higher  species  of  ants,  according  to  M.  Espinas,  "  the 
individual  develops  an  astonishing  initiative "   [Des  Societes  animates, 
p.  223;  Alfred  Espinas,  Paris,  1877.    The  italics  are  M.  Tarde's. — Tr.]. 
How    do   the   labours    and    migrations   of   ant-swarms   begin?      Is    it 
through  a  common,  instinctive,  and  spontaneous  impulse  which  starts 
from  all  the  associates  at  the  same  time  and  under  the  pressure  of 
out'ward  circumstances  which  are  experienced  simultaneously  by  all  ? 
On  the  contrary,  a  single  ant  begins  by  leaving  the  others  and  under- 
taking the  work;  then  it  strikes  its  neighbours  with  its  antennae  to 
summon  their  aid.  and  the  contagion  of  imitation  does  the  rest. 

2  [Ibid.,  p.  272.— Tr.] 


Universal  Repetition  5 

bodies  of  a  given  mass  and  volume  and  at  a  given  distance, 
exist,  or  have  existed.  The  chemist  makes  the  same  state- 
ment about  certain  chemical  substances,  the  physicist,  about 
certain  kinds  of  ethereal  vibrations,  which  he  calls  light, 
electricity,  and  magnetism;  the  naturalist  states  that  there 
are  certain  principal  organic  types,  to  begin  with,  plants 
and  animals ;  the  physiographer  states  that  there  are  certain 
mountain  chains,  which  he  calls  the  Alps,  the  Andes,  et 
cetera.  In  teaching  us  about  these  capital  facts  from  which 
the  rest  are  deduced,  are  these  investigators  doing  the  work, 
strictly  speaking,  of  scientists?  They  are  not;  they  are 
merely  affirming  certain  facts,  and  they  in  no  way  differ 
from  the  historian  who  chronicles  the  expedition  of  Alex- 
ander or  the  discovery  of  printing.  If  there  be  any  dif- 
ference, it  is,  as  we  shall  see,  wholly  to  the  advantage  of 
the  historian.  What,  then,  do  we  know  in  the  scientific 
sense  of  the  word?  Of  course,  we  answer  that  we  know 
causes  and  effects.  And  when  we  have  learned  that,  in  the 
case  of  two  different  events,  the  one  is  the  outcome  of  the 
other,  or  that  both  collaborate  towards  the  same  end,  we 
say  that  they  have  been  explained.  But  let  us  imagine  a 
world  where  there  is  neither  resemblance  nor  repetition,  a 
strange,  but,  if  need  be,  an  intelligible  hypothesis;  a  world 
where  everything  is  novel  and  unforeseen,  where  the  crea- 
tive imagination,  unchecked  by  memory,  has  full  play,  where 
the  motions  of  the  stars  are  sporadic,  where  the  agitations  of 
the  ether  are  unrhythmical,  and  wheresuccessivegenerations 
are  without  the  common  traits  of  an  hereditary  type.  And 
yet  every  apparition  in  such  a  phantasmagoria  might  be 
produced  and  determined  by  another,  and  might  even,  in 
its  turn,  become  the  cause  of  others.  In  such  a  world 
causes  and  effects  might  still  exist;  but  would  any  kind  of 
a  science  be  possible?  It  would  not  be,  because,  to  reiterate, 
neither  resemblances  nor  repetitions  would  be  found  there. 
This  is  the  essential  point.  Knowledge  of  causes  is  some- 
times sufficient  for  foresight;  but  knowledge  of  resem- 
blances always  allows  of  enumeration  and  measurement,  and 
science  depends  primarily  upon  number  and  measure. 


6  Laws  of  Imitation 

More  than  this  is,  of  course,  necessary.  As  soon  as  a  new 
science  has  staked  out  its  field  of  characteristic  resem- 
blances and  repetitions,  it  must  compare  them  and  note  the 
bond  of  solidarity  which  unites  their  concomitant  varia- 
tions. But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  mind  does  not  fully 
understand  nor  clearly  recognise  the  relation  of  cause  and 
effect,  except  in  as  much  as  the  effect  resembles  or  repeats 
the  cause,  as,  for  example,  when  a  sound  wave  produces  an- 
other sound  wave,  or  a  cell,  another  cell.  There  is  noth- 
ing more  mysterious,  one  may  say,  than  such  reproductions. 
I  admit  this;  but  when  we  have  once  accepted  this  mystery, 
there  is  nothing  clearer  than  the  resulting  series.  Whereas, 
every  time  that  production  does  not  mean  reproduction  of 
self,  we  are  entirely  in  the  dark.1 

When  like  things  form  parts  of  the  same  or  of  sup- 
posedly the  same  whole,  like  the  molecules  of  a  volume  of 
hydrogen,  or  the  woody  cells  of  a  tree,  or  the  soldiers  of  a 
regiment,  the  resemblance  is  referred  to  as  a  quantity  in- 
stead of  a  group.  In  other  words,  when  the  things  which 
repeat  themselves  remain  united  as  they  increase,  like  vibra- 
tions of  heat  or  electricity,  accumulating  within  some  heated 
or  electrified  object,  or  like  cells  multiplying  in  the  body 
of  a  growing  child,  or  like  proselytes  to  a  common  religion, 
in  such  cases  the  repetition  is  called  a  growth  instead  of  a 
series.  In  all  of  this  I  fail  to  see  anything  which  would 
differentiate  the  subject  of  social  science. 

Besides,  whether  resemblances  and  repetitions  are  in- 
trinsic or  extrinsic,  quantities  or  groups,  growths  or  series, 
they  are  the  necessary  themes  of  the  differences  and  varia- 
tions which  exist  in  all  phenomena.  They  are  the  canvas  of 
their  embroidery,  the  measure  of  their  music.  The  wonder 
world  which  I  was  picturing  would  be,  at  bottom,  the  least 

1  "  Scientific  knowledge  need  not  necessarily  take  its  starting-point 
from  the  most  minute  hypothetical  and  unknown  things.  It  begins 
wherever  matter  forms  units  of  a  like  order  which  can  be  compared 
with  and  measured  by  one  another,  and  wherever  such  units  combine 
as  units  of  a  higher  order  and  thus  serve  in  themselves  as  a  standard 
of  comparison  for  the  latter"  (Von  Naegeli.  Address  at  the  congress 
of  German  naturalists  in  1877). 


Universal  Repetition  7 

richly  differentiated  of  all  possible  worlds.  How  much 
greater  a  renovator  than  revolution  is  our  modern  industrial 
system,  accumulation  as  it  is  of  mutually  imitative  actions ! 
What  is  more  monotonous  than  the  free  life  of  the  savage  in 
comparison  with  the  hemmed-in  life  of  civilised  man  ?  Would 
any  organic  progress  be  possible  without  heredity  ?  Would 
the  exuberant  variety  of  geological  ages  and  of  living 
nature  have  sprung  into  existence  independently  of  the 
periodicity  of  the  heavenly  motions  or  of  the  wave-like 
rhythm  of  the  earth's  forces? 

Repetition  exists,  then,  for  the  sake  of  variation.  Other- 
wise, the  necessity  of  death  (a  problem  which  M.  Delbceuf 
considers  in  his  book  upon  animate  and  inanimate  matter, 
almost  impossible  of  solution),  would  be  incomprehensible; 
for  why  should  not  the  top  of  life  spin  on,  after  it  was 
wound  up,  forever?  But  under  the  hypothesis  that  repeti- 
tions exist  only  to  embody  all  the  phases  of  a  certain  unique 
originality  which  seeks  expression,  death  must  inevitably 
supervene  after  all  these  variations  have  been  fully  ef- 
fected. I  may  note  in  this  connection,  in  passing,  that  the 
relation  of  universal  to  particular,  a  relation  which  fed  the 
entire  philosophic  controversy  of  the  Middle  Ages  upon 
nominalism  and  realism,  is  precisely  that  of  repetition  to 
variation.  Nominalism  is  the  doctrine  in  accordance  with 
which  individual  characteristics  or  idiosyncracies  are  the 
only  significant  realities.  Realism,  on  the  other  hand,  con- 
siders only  those  traits  worthy  of  attention  and  of  the  name 
of  reality  through  which  a  given  individual  resembles  other 
individuals  and  tends  to  reproduce  himself  in  them.  The 
interest  of  this  kind  of  speculation  is  apparent  when  we  con- 
sider that  in  politics  individualism  is  a  special  kind  of 
nominalism,  and  socialism,  a  special  kind  of  realism. 

All  repetition,  social,  vital,  or  physical,  i.  e.,  imitative, 
hereditary,  or  vibratory  repetition  (to  consider  only  the 
most  salient  and  typical  forms  of  universal  repetition), 
springs  from  some  innovation,  just  as  every  light  radiates 
from  some  central  point,  and  thus  throughout  science  the 
normal  appears  to  originate  from  the  accidental.  For  the 


8  Laws  of  Imitation 

propagation  of  an  attractive  force  or  luminous  vibration 
from  a  heavenly  body,  or  of  a  race  of  animals  from  an  ances- 
tral pair,  or  of  a  national  idea  or  desire  or  religious  rite 
from  a  scholar  or  inventor  or  missionary,  seem  to  us  like 
natural  and  regular  phenomena;  whereas  we  are  constantly 
surprised  by  the  strange  and  partly  non-formulable  se- 
quence or  juxtaposition  of  their  respective  centres,  i.  e., 
the  different  crafts,  religions,  and  social  institutions,  the 
different  organic  types,  the  different  chemical  substances  or 
celestial  masses  from  which  all  these  radiations  have  issued. 
All  these  admirable  uniformities  or  series, — hydrogen,  whose 
multitudinous,  star-scattered  atoms  are  universally  homo- 
geneous, protoplasm,  identical  from  one  end  to  the  other  of 
the  scale  of  life,  the  roots  of  the  Indo-European  languages, 
identical  almost  throughout  civilisation,  the  expansion  of 
the  light  of  a  star  in  the  immensity  of  space,  the  unbroken 
sequence  from  geological  times  of  incalculable  generations 
of  marine  species,  the  wonderfully  faithful  transmission  of 
words  from  the  Coptic  of  the  ancient  Egyptians  to  us  mod- 
erns, etc., — all  these  innumerable  masses  of  things  of  like 
nature  and  of  like  affiliations,  whose  harmonious  co-ex- 
istence or  equally  harmonious  succession  we  admire,  are 
related  to  physical,  biological,  and  social  accidents  by  a  tie 
which  baffles  us. 

Here,  also,  the  analogy  between  social  and  natural  phe- 
nomena is  carried  out.  But  we  should  not  be  surprised  if 
the  former  seem  chaotic  when  we  view  them  through  the 
medium  of  the  historian,  or  even  through  that  of  the  soci- 
ologist, whereas  the  latter  impress  us,  as  they  are  presented 
by  physicist,  chemist,  or  physiologist,  as  very  well  ordered 
worlds.  These  latter  scientists  show  us  the  subject 
of  their  science  only  on  the  side  of  its  characteristic  re- 
semblances and  repetitions;  they  prudently  conceal  its  cor- 
responding heterogeneities  and  transformations  (or  trans- 
substantiations).  The  historian  and  sociologist,  on  the 
contrary,  veil  the  regular  and  monotonous  face  of  social 
facts, — that  part  in  which  they  are  alike  and  repeat  them- 
selves,— and  show  us  only  their  accidental  and  interesting, 


Universal  Repetition  9 

their  infinitely  novel  and  diversified,  aspect.  If  our  subject 
were,  for  example,  the  Gallo-Romans,  the  historian,  even 
the  philosophic  historian,  would  not  think  of  leading  us 
step  by  step  through  conquered  Gaul  in  order  to  show  us 
how  every  word,  rite,  edict,  profession,  custom,  craft,  law,  or 
military  manoeuvre,  how,  in  short,  every  special  idea  or  need 
which  had  been  introduced  from  Rome  had  begun  to  spread 
from  the  Pyrenees  to  the  Rhine,  and  to  win  its  way,  after 
more  or  less  vigorous  fighting  against  old  Celtic  customs 
and  ideas,  to  the  mouths  and  arms  and  hearts  and  minds  of 
all  the  enthusiastic  Gallic  imitators  of  Rome  and  Caesar.  At 
any  rate,  if  our  historian  had  once  led  us  upon  this  long 
journey,  he  would  not  make  us  repeat  it  for  every  Latin 
word  or  grammatical  form,  for  every  ritualistic  form  in 
the  Roman  religion,  for  every  military  manoeuvre  that  was 
taught  to  the  legionaries  by  their  officer-instructors,  for 
every  variety  of  Roman  architecture,  for  temple,  basilica, 
theatre,  hippodrome,  aqueduct,  and  atriumed  villa,  for  every 
school-taught  verse  of  Virgil  or  Horace,  for  every  Roman 
law,  or  for  every  artistic  or  industrial  process  in  Roman 
civilisation  that  had  been  faithfully  and  continuously  trans- 
mitted from  pedagogues  and  craftsmen  to  pupils  and  ap- 
prentices. And  yet  it  is  only  at  this  price  that  we  can  get 
at  an  exact  estimate  of  the  great  amount  of  regularity  which 
obtains  in  even  the  most  fluctuating  societies. 

Then,  after  the  introduction  of  Christianity,  our  historian 
would  certainly  refrain  from  making  us  renew  this  tedious 
peregrination  in  connection  with  every  Christian  rite  which 
propagated  itself,  in  spite  of  resistance,  through  heathen 
Gaul,  like  a  wave  of  sound  through  air  that  is  already 
in  vibration.  Instead  of  this,  he  would  inform  us  at  what 
date  Julius  Caesar  conquered  Gaul,  or,  again,  at  what  date 
certain  saints  came  to  that  country  to  preach  Christianity. 
He  might  also  enumerate  the  diverse  elements  out  of  which 
the  Roman  civilisation  and  the  Christian  faith  and  morality 
that  were  introduced  into  the  Gallic  world,  were  composed, 
In  this  case,  his  problem  is  to  understand  and  rationally,  log- 
ically, and  scientifically,  describe  the  extraordinary  super- 


io  Laws  of  Imitation 

position  of  Christianity  upon  Romanism,  or  rather,  the 
gradual  process  of  Christian  upon  the  gradual  process 
of  Roman  assimilation.  In  the  separate  treatment  of 
both  Romanism  and  Christianity,  he  will  meet  with  an 
equally  difficult  problem  in  giving  a  rational  explanation  of 
the  strange  juxtaposition  of  the  very  heterogeneous  Etrus- 
can, Greek,  Oriental,  and  other  fragments  which  constituted 
the  former,  and  of  the  incoherent  Jewish,  Egyptian,  and 
Byzantine  ideas,  ideas  which  were  incoherent  even  in  each 
distinct  group,  which  constituted  the  latter.  This,  how- 
ever, is  the  arduous  task  which  the  philosopher  of  history 
sets  before  himself  and  which  he  thinks  that  he  cannot  slur 
over  if  he  is  to  do  the  work  of  a  scholar.  He  will,  therefore, 
wear  himself  out  in  trying  to  bring  order  out  of  disorder  by 
discovering  some  law  or  reason  for  these  historic  chances 
and  coincidences.  He  would  do  better  to  investigate  how 
and  why  harmonies  sometimes  proceed  from  these  coinci- 
dences and  in  what  these  harmonies  consist.  I  will  under- 
take to  do  this  further  on. 

In  short,  a  historian  of  this  kind  is  like  the  botanist  who 
would  feel  bound  to  ignore  everything  about  the  generation 
of  plants  of  the  same  species  or  variety,  as  well  as  every- 
thing about  their  growth  or  nutrition,  a  kind  of  cellular 
generation  or  regeneration  of  tissues;  or  like  the  physi- 
cist who  disdained  to  study  the  propagation  of  light  or 
heat  or  sound  waves  as  they  passed  through  different 
mediums  which  were  themselves  in  vibration.  Can  we 
conceive  of  the  former  believing  that  the  proper  and 
exclusive  object  of  his  science  was  an  interlinking  of  unlike 
species,  beginning  with  the  first  alga  and  ending  with  the 
last  orchid,  plus  a  profound  justification  of  such  a  con- 
catenation? Can  we  conceive  of  the  latter  convinced  that 
the  sole  end  of  his  studies  was  investigation  into  the  reason 
why  there  were  precisely  seven  known  kinds  of  luminous 
undulation,  and  why,  including  electricity  and  magnetism, 
there  were  no  other  kinds  of  ethereal  vibration?  These  are 
certainly  interesting  questions,  but  although  they  are  open 
to  philosophic,  they  are  not  open  to  scientific,  discussion, 


Universal  Repetition  1 1 

since  their  solution  does  not  seem  capable  of  admitting  of 
that  high  kind  of  probability  which  science  exacts.  It  is 
clear  that  the  first  condition  of  becoming  an  anatomist  or 
physiologist  is  the  study  of  tissues,  the  aggregates  of  homo- 
geneous cells  and  fibres  and  blood  vessels,  or  the  study  of 
functions,  the  accumulations  of  minute  homogeneous  con- 
tractions, innervations,  oxidations,  or  deoxidations,  and 
then,  and  above  all,  belief  in  the  great  architect  of  life, 
in  heredity.  It  is  equally  clear  that  it  is  of  primary  im- 
portance to  the  chemist  and  physicist  to  examine  many  kinds 
of  gaseous,  liquid,  and  solid  masses,  masses  composed  of 
corpuscles  which  are  absolutely  alike,  or  of  so-called  physical 
forces  which  are  prodigious  accumulations  of  minute,  homo- 
geneous vibrations.  In  fact,  in  the  physical  world,  every- 
thing refers,  or  is  in  course  of  being  referred,  to  vibration. 
Here  everything  is  taking  on  more  and  more  an  essentially 
vibratory  character,  just  as  in  the  animate  world  the  re- 
productive faculty,  or  the  property  of  transmitting  the 
smallest  peculiarities  (which  are  usually  of  unknown  ori- 
gin) through  inheritance,  is  coming  more  and  more  to  be 
thought  inherent  in  the  smallest  cell. 

And  now  my  readers  will  realise,  perhaps,  that  the  social 
being1,  in  the  degree  that  he  is  social,  is  essentially  imitative, 
and  that  imitation  plays  a  role  in  societies  analogous  to  that 
of  heredity  in  organic  life  or  to  that  of  vibration  among  in- 
organic bodies.  If  this  is  so,  it  ought  to  be  admitted,  in  con- 
sequence, that  a  human  invention,  by  which  a  new  kind  of 
imitation  is  started  or  a  new  series  opened, — the  invention 
of  gunpowder,  for  example,1  or  windmills,  or  the  Morse 
telegraph, — stands  in  the  same  relation  to  social  science  as 
the  birth  of  a  new  vegetal  or  mineral  species  (or,  on  the 
hypothesis  of  a  gradual  evolution,  of  each  of  the  slow  modi- 
fications to  which  the  new  species  is  due),  to  biology,  or  as 
the  appearance  of  a  new  mode  of  motion  comparable  with 

1  When  I  speak  of  the  invention  of  gunpowder,  of  the  telegraph,  of 
railroads,  etc.,  I  mean,  of  course,  the  group  of  accumulated  and  yet  dis- 
tinguishable and  numerable  inventions  which  have  been  necessary  for 
the  production  of  gunpowder,  or  telegraphy,  or  railroads. 


12  Laws  of  Imitation 

light  or  electricity,  or  the  formation  of  a  new  substance,  to 
physics  or  chemistry.  Therefore,  if  we  are  to  make  a  just 
comparison,  we  must  not  compare  the  philosophic  historian 
who  strives  to  discover  a  law  for  the  odd  groups  and  se- 
quences of  scientific,  industrial,  sesthetic,  and  political  in- 
ventions, to  the  physiologist  or  physicist,  as  we  know  him, 
to  Tyndall  or  Claude  Bernard,  but  to  a  philosopher  of  nature 
like  Schelling  or  like  Haeckel  in  his  hours  of  riotous  im- 
agination. 

We  should  then  perceive  that  the  crude  incoherence  of 
historic  facts,  all  of  which  facts  are  traceable  to  the  dif- 
ferent currents  of  imitation  of  which  they  are  the  point  of 
intersection,  a  point  which  is  itself  destined  to  be  more  or 
less  exactly  copied,  is  no  proof  at  all  against  the  funda- 
mental regularity  of  social  life  or  the  possibility  of  a  social 
science.  Indeed,  parts  of  this  science  exist  in  the  petty 
experience  of  each  of  us,  and  we  have  only  to  piece  the  frag- 
ments together.  Besides,  a  group  of  historic  events  would 
certainly  be  far  from  appearing  more  incoherent  than  a 
collection  of  living  types  or  chemical  substances.  Why 
then  should  we  exact  from  the  philosopher  of  history  the 
fine  symmetrical  and  rational  order  that  we  do  not  dream  of 
demanding  from  the  philosopher  of  science  ?  And  yet  there 
is  a  distinction  here  which  is  entirely  to  the  credit  of  the 
historian.  It  is  but  recently  that  the  naturalist  has  had  any 
glimpses  that  were  at  all  clear  of  biological  evolution,  where- 
as the  historian  was  long  ago  aware  of  the  continuity 
of  history.  As  for  chemists  and  physicists,  we  may  pass 
them  by.  They  dare  not  even  yet  forecast  the  time  when 
they  will  be  able  to  trace  out,  in  their  turn,  the  genealogy  of 
simple  substances,  or  when  a  work  on  the  origin  of  atoms, 
as  successful  as  Darwin's  Origin  of  Species,  will  be  pub- 
lished. It  is  true  that  M.  Lecoq  de  Boisbaudran  and  M. 
Mendelejeff  thought  that  they  had  distinguished  a  natural 
series  of  simple  substances,  and  it  is  true  that  Boisbaudran's 
discovery  of  gallium  was  made  in  connection  with  his 
eminently  philosophic  speculations  along  this  line.  But 
Ipon  close  consideration,  perhaps  neither  the  remarkable 


Universal  Repetition  13 

attempts  of  these  scientists  nor  the  various  systems  of  our 
evolutionists  on  the  genealogical  ramification  of  living 
types  present  any  greater  degree  of  precision  or  certainty 
than  sparkles  in  the  ideas  of  Herbert  Spencer,  or  even  in 
those  of  Vico,  upon  the  so-called  periodic  and  predestined 
evolutions  of  society.  The  origin  of  atoms  is  much  more 
mysterious  than  the  origin  of  species,  and  the  origin  of 
species  is,  in  turn,  more  mysterious  than  the  origin  of  civili- 
sations. We  can  compare  extant  living  species  with  those 
which  have  preceded  them,  the  remains  of  which  we  find  in 
the  earth's  strata;  but  we  have  not  the  slightest  trace  of  the 
chemical  substances  which  must  have  preceded  in  prehis- 
toric astronomy,  so  to  speak,  in  the  unfathomable  and  un- 
imaginable depths  of  the  past,  the  actual  chemical  sub- 
stances of  the  earth  and  stars.  Consequently,  chemistry, 
which  cannot  even  propound  a  problem  of  origins,  is  less 
advanced,  in  this  essential  particular,  than  biology ;  and,  for 
like  reason,  biology  is,  in  reality,  less  advanced  than  soci- 
ology. 

From  the  foregoing,  it  is  evident  that  social  science  and 
social  philosophy  are  distinct;  that  social  science  must  deal 
exclusively,  like  every  other  science,  with  a  multitude  of 
homogeneous  facts,  with  those  facts  which  are  carefully 
concealed  by  the  historians;  that  new  and  heterogeneous 
facts,  or  historical  facts,  strictly  speaking,  are  the  special 
domain  of  social  philosophy;  that  from  this  point  of  view 
social  science  might  be  as  advanced  as  the  other  sciences, 
and  that  social  philosophy  is  actually  much  more  so  than 
any  other  philosophy. 

In  the  present  volume,  we  are  concerned  only  with  the 
science  of  society;  moreover,  we  shall  confine  our  discus- 
sion to  imitation  and  its  laws.  Later  on,  we  shall  have  to 
study  the  laws,  or  pseudo-laws,  of  invention.1  The  two 
questions  are  quite  different,  although  they  cannot  be 
wholly  separated. 

1  Since  this  was  written  I  have  outlined  a  theory  of  invention  in  my 
Logique  sociale  (F.  Alcan,  1895). 


14  Laws  of  Imitation 


II 

After  these  long  preliminaries,  I  must  develop  an  im- 
portant thesis  which  has  so  far  been  obscure  and  involved. 
Science,  as  I  have  said,  deals  only  with  quantities  and 
growths,  or,  in  more  general  terms,  with  the  resemblances 
and  repetitions  of  phenomena. 

This  distinction,  however,  is  realty  superfluous  and  super- 
ficial. Every  advance  in  knowledge  tends  to  strengthen 
the  conviction  that  all  resemblance  is  due  to  repetition. 
I  think  that  this  may  be  brought  out  in  the  three  follow- 
ing propositions : 

1.  All  resemblances  which  are  to  be  observed  in  the 
chemical,  or  physical,  or  astronomical  worlds  (the  atoms  of 
a  single  body,  the  waves  of  a  single  ray  of  light,  the  concen- 
tric strata  of  attraction  of  which  every  heavenly  body  is 
a  centre),  can  be  caused  and  explained  solely  by  periodic, 
and,  for  the  most  part,  vibratory  motions. 

2.  All  resemblances  of  vital  origin  in  the  world  of  life 
result  from  hereditary  transmission,  from  either  intra-  or 
extra-organic  reproduction.     It  is  through  the  relationship 
between  cells  and  the  relationship  between  species  that  all 
the  different  kinds  of  analogies  and  homologies  which  com- 
parative anatomy  points  out  between  species,  and  histology, 
between  corporeal  elements,  are  at  present  explained. 

3.  All  resemblances  of  social  origin  in  society  are  the 
direct  or  indirect  fruit  of  the  various  forms  of  imitation, — 
custom-imitation     or     fashion-imitation,     sympathy-imita- 
tion or  obedience-imitation,  precept-imitation  or  education- 
imitation;    na'ive   imitation,    deliberate    imitation,    etc.      In 
this  lies   the   excellence  of  the  contemporaneous   method 
of  explaining  doctrines  and  institutions  through  their  his- 
tory.   It  is  a  method  that  is  certain  to  come  into  more  gen- 
eral use.     It  is  said  that  great  geniuses,  great  inventors, 
are  apt   to   cross   each   other's   paths.      But,   in   the  first 
place,     such     coincidences     are     very     rare,     and     when 
they   do   occur,    they   are   always    due   to   the    fact    that 


Universal  Repetition  15 

both  authors  of  the  same  invention  have  drawn  inde- 
pendently from  some  common  fund  of  instruction.  This 
fund  consists  of  a  mass  of  ancient  traditions  and  of  experi- 
ences that  are  unorganised  or  that  have  been  more  or  less 
organised  and  imitatively  transmitted  through  language, 
the  great  vehicle  of  all  imitations. 

In  this  connection  we  may  observe  that  modern  philolo- 
gists have  relied  so  implicitly  upon  the  foregoing  proposi- 
tion, that  they  have  concluded,  through  analogy,  that  San- 
skrit, Latin,  Greek,  German,  Russian,  and  other  kindred 
tongues,  belong  in  reality  to  one  family,  and  that  it  had  a 
common  progenitor  in  a  language  which  was  transmitted, 
with  the  exception  of  certain  modifications,  through  tradi- 
tion. Each  modification  was,  in  truth,  an  anonymous  lin- 
guistic invention  which  was,  in  turn,  perpetuated  by  imita- 
tion. In  the  next  chapter  I  will  return  to  the  development 
and  re-statement  of  our  third  proposition. 

There  is  only  one  great  class  of  universal  resemblances 
which  seem  at  first  as  if  they  could  not  have  been  produced 
by  any  form  of  repetition.  This  is  the  resemblance  of  the 
parts  of  infinite  space  whose  juxtaposition  and  immobility 
are  the  very  conditions  of  all  motion  whatsoever,  whether 
vibratory,  or  reproductive,  or  propagative  and  subduing. 
But  we  must  not  pause  over  this  apparent  exception.  It  is 
enough  to  have  mentioned  it.  Its  discussion  would  lead  us 
too  far  afield. 

Turning  aside  from  this  anomaly,  which  may  be  illusory, 
let  us  maintain  the  truth  of  our  general  proposition,  and  note 
one  of  its  direct  consequences.  If  quantity  signifies  resem- 
blance, if  every  resemblance  proceeds  from  repetition,  and  if 
every  repetition  is  a  vibration  (or  any  other  periodic  move- 
ment), a  phenomenon  of  reproduction  or  an  act  of  imitation, 
it  follows  that,  on  the  hypothesis  that  no  motion  is,  or  ever 
has  been,  vibratory,  no  function  hereditary,  no  act  or  idea 
learned  and  copied,  there  would  be  no  such  thing  as  quantity 
in  the  universe,  and  the  science  of  mathematics  would  be 
without  any  possible  use  or  conceivable  application.  It  also 
follows  upon  the  inverse  hypothesis,  that  if  our  physical, 


1 6  Laws  of  Imitation 

vital,  and  social  spheres  were  to  enlarge  the  range  of  their 
vibratory,  reproductive,  and  propagative  activities,  our  field 
of  calculation  would  be  even  more  extensive  and  profound. 
This  fact  is  apparent  in  our  European  societies  where  the 
extraordinary  progress  of  fashion  in  all  its  forms,  in  dress, 
food  and  housing,  in  wants  and  ideas,  in  institutions  and 
arts,  is  making  a  single  type  of  European  based  upon  several 
hundreds  of  millions  of  examples.  Is  it  not  evident  that  it 
is  this  prodigious  levelling  which  has  from  its  very  begin- 
ning made  possible  the  birth  and  growth  of  statistical 
science  and  of  what  has  been  so  well  called  social  physics, 
political  economy?  Without  fashion  and  custom,  social 
quantities  would  not  exist,  there  would  be  no  values,  no 
money,  and,  consequently,  no  science  of  wealth  or  finance. 
(How  was  it  possible,  then,  for  economists  to  dream  of  for- 
mulating theories  of  value  in  which  the  idea  of  imitation 
had  no  part?)  But  the  application  of  number  and  measure 
to  societies,  which  people  are  trying  to  make  nowadays, 
cannot  help  being  partial  and  tentative.  In  this  matter  the 
future  has  many  surprises  in  store  for  us ! 

Ill 

At  this  point  we  might  develop  the  striking  analogies, 
the  equally  instructive  differences,  and  the  mutual  relations 
of  the  three  main  forms  of  universal  repetition.  We  might 
also  seek  for  the  explanation  of  their  majestically  inter- 
woven rhythms  and  symmetries;  we  might  question  whether 
the  content  of  these  forms  resembled  them  or  not,  whether 
the  active  and  underlying  substance  of  these  well-ordered 
phenomena  shared  in  their  sage  uniformity,  or  whether  it 
did  not  perhaps  contrast  with  them  in  being  essentially 
heterogeneous,  like  a  people  which  gave  no  evidence  in  its 
military  or  administrative  exterior  of  the  tumultuous  idio- 
syncracies  which  constituted  it  and  which  set  its  machinery 
in  motion. 

This  twofold  subject  would  be  too  vast.  In  the  first 
part  of  it,  however,  there  are  certain  obvious  analogies 


Universal  Repetition  17 

which  we  should  note.  In  the  first  place,  repetitions  are 
also  multiplications  or  self-spreading  contagions.  If  a  stone 
falls  into  the  water,  the  first  wave  which  it  produces  will 
repeat  itself  in  circling  out  to  the  confines  of  its  basin.  If 
I  light  a  match,  the  first  undulation  which  I  start  in  the 
ether  will  instantly  spread  throughout  a  vast  space.  If  one 
couple  of  termites  or  of  phylloxeras  are  transported  to  a 
continent,  they  will  ravish  it  within  a  few  years.  The  per- 
nicious erigeron  of  Canada,  which  has  but  quite  recently 
been  imported  from  Europe,  flourishes  already  in  every  un- 
cultivated field.  The  well-known  laws  of  Malthus  and 
Darwin  on  the  tendency  of  the  individuals  of  a  species  to 
increase  in  geometrical  progression,  are  true  laws  of  human 
radiation  through  reproduction.  In  the  same  way,  a  local 
dialect  that  is  spoken  only  by  certain  families,  gradually  be- 
comes, through  imitation,  a  national  idiom.  In  the  begin- 
ning of  societies,  the  art  of  chipping  flint,  of  domesticating 
dogs,  of  making  bows,  and,  later,  of  leavening  bread,  of 
working  bronze,  of  extracting  iron,  etc.,  must  have  spread 
like  a  contagion;  since  every  arrow,  every  flake,  every 
morsel  of  bread,  every  thread  of  bronze,  served  both  as 
model  and  copy.  Nowadays  the  diffusion  of  all  kinds  of 
useful  processes  is  brought  about  in  the  same  way,  except 
that  our  increasing  density  of  population  and  our  advance 
in  civilisation  prodigiously  accelerate  their  diffusion,  just 
as  velocity  of  sound  is  proportionate  to  density  of  me- 
dium. Every  social  thing,  that  is  to  say,  every  invention 
or  discovery,  tends  to  expands  in  its  social  environment,  an 
environment  which  itself,  I  might  add,  tends  to  self-expan- 
sion, since  it  is  essentially  composed  of  like  things,  all  of 
which  have  infinite  ambitions. 

This  tendency,  however,  here  as  in  external  nature,  often 
proves  abortive  through  the  competition  of  rival  tendencies. 
But  this  fact  is  of  little  importance  to  theory;  besides,  it 
is  metaphorical.  Desire  can  no  more  be  attributed  to  ideas 
than  to  vibrations  or  species,  and  the  fact  in  question  must 
be  understood  to  mean  that  the  scattered  individual  forces 
which  are  inherent  in  the  innumerable  beings  composing 


1 8  Laws  of  Imitation 

the  environment  where  these  forms  propagate  themselves, 
have  taken  a  common  direction.  In  this  sense,  this  tend- 
ency towards  expansion  presupposes  that  the  environment 
in  question  is  homogeneous,  a  condition  which  seems  to  be 
well  fulfilled  by  the  ethereal  or  aerial  medium  of  vibrations, 
much  less  so  by  the  geographical  and  chemical  medium  of 
species,  and  infinitely  less  so  by  the  social  medium  of  ideas. 
But  it  is  a  mistake,  I  think,  to  express  this  difference  by 
saying  that  the  social  medium  is  more  complex  than  the 
others.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  perhaps  because  it  is  numer- 
ically much  more  simple,  that  it  is  farther  from  presenting 
the  required  homogeneity;  since  a  homogeneity  that  is  real 
on  the  surface  merely,  suffices.  Besides,  as  the  agglomera- 
tions of  human  beings  increase,  the  spread  of  ideas  in  a 
regular  geometrical  progression  is  more  marked.  Let  us 
exaggerate  this  numerical  increase  to  an  extreme  degree, 
let  us  suppose  that  the  social  sphere  in  which  an  idea  can 
expand  be  composed  not  only  of  a  group  sufficiently  nu- 
merous to  give  birth  to  the  principal  moral  varieties  of  the 
human  species,  but  also  of  thousands  of  uniform  repeti- 
tions of  these  groups,  so  that  the  uniformity  of  these  repeti- 
tions makes  an  apparent  homogeneity,  in  spite  of  the  in- 
ternal complexity  of  each  group.  Have  we  not  some  reason 
for  thinking  that  this  is  the  kind  of  homogeneity  which 
characterises  all  the  simple  and  apparently  uniform  reali- 
ties which  external  nature  presents  to  us  ?  On  this  hypoth- 
esis, it  is  evident  that  the  success  of  an  idea,  the  more  or 
less  rapid  rate  at  which  it  circulated  on  the  day  of  its  ap- 
pearance, would  supply  the  mathematical  reason,  in  a  way, 
of  its  further  progression.  Given  this  condition,  producers 
of  articles  which  satisfied  prime  needs  and  which  were 
therefore  destined  for  universal  consumption,  would  be  able 
to  foretell  from  the  demand  in  a  given  year,  at  a  certain 
price,  what  would  be  the  demand  in  the  following  year,  at 
the  same  price,  providing  no  check,  prohibitive  or  otherwise, 
intervened,  or  no  superior  article  of  the  same  class  were  dis- 
covered. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  faculty  of  foresight  is  the  criter- 


Universal  Repetition  19 

ion  of  science.  Let  us  amend  this  to  read,  the  faculty  of 
conditional  foresight.  The  botanist,  for  example,  can  fore- 
tell the  form  and  colour  of  the  fruit  which  a  flower  will  pro- 
duce, provided  it  be  not  killed  by  drought,  or  provided  a 
new  and  unexpected  individual  variety  (a  kind  of  secondary 
biological  invention)  do  not  develop.  The  physicist  can 
state,  at  the  moment  a  rifle-shot  is  discharged,  that  it  will  be 
heard  in  a  given  number  of  seconds,  at  a  given  distance, 
provided  nothing  intercept  the  sound  in  its  passage,  or 
provided  a  louder  sound,  a  discharge  of  cannon,  for  ex- 
ample, be  not  heard  during  the  given  period.  Now  it  is 
precisely  on  the  same  ground  that  the  sociologist  is,  strictly 
speaking,  a  scientist.  Given  the  centres,  the  approximate 
velocities,  and  the  tendency  to  separate  or  concurrent  motion 
of  existing  imitations,  the  sociologist  is  in  a  position  to  fore- 
tell the  social  conditions  of  ten  or  twenty  years  hence,  pro- 
vided no  reform  or  political  revolution  occur  to  hinder 
this  expansion  and  provided  no  rival  centres  arise  mean- 
while. 

In  this  case,  to  be  sure,  the  conditioning  of  events  is 
highly  probable,  more  probable,  perhaps,  than  in  the  others. 
But  it  is  only  a  difference  of  degree.  Besides,  let  us  observe 
(as  a  matter  that  belongs  to  the  philosophy  and  not  to  the 
science  of  history),  that  the  successful  discoveries  and  in- 
itiatives of  the  present  vaguely  determine  the  direction  of 
those  of  the  future.  Moreover,  the  social  forces  of  any 
real  importance  at  any  period  are  not  composed  of  the  nec- 
essarily feeble  imitations  that  have  radiated  from  recent 
inventions,  but  of  the  imitations  of  ancient  inventions,  rad- 
iations which  are  alike  more  intense  and  more  widespread 
because  they  have  had  the  necessary  time  in  which  to  spread 
out  and  become  established  as  habits,  customs,  or  so- 
called  physiological  "  race  instincts."1  Our  ignorance,  there- 
fore, of  the  unforeseen  discoveries  which  will  be  made  ten, 

1 1  must  not  be  accused  of  the  absurd  idea  of  denying  in  all  of  this 
the  influence  of  race  upon  social  facts.  But  I  think  that  on  account 
of  the  number  of  its  acquired  characteristics,  race  is  the  outcome,  and 
not  the  source,  of  these  facts,  and  only  in  this  hitherto  ignored  sense  does 
it  appear  to  me  to  come  within  the  special  province  of  the  sociologist. 


2O  Laws  of  Imitation 

twenty,  or  fifty  years  hence,  of  the  art-inspiring  master- 
pieces which  are  to  appear,  of  the  battles  and  revolutions 
and  deeds  of  violence  which  will  be  noised  abroad,  does  not 
hinder  us  from  almost  accurately  predicting,  on  the  fore- 
going hypothesis,  the  depth  and  direction  of  the  current  of 
ideas  and  aspirations  which  our  statesmen  and  our  great 
generals,  poets,  and  musicians  will  have  to  follow  and  ren- 
der navigable,  or  stem  and  combat. 

As  examples  in  support  of  the  geometrical  progress  of 
imitations,  I  might  cite  statistics  of  locomotive  construc- 
tion, or  of  the  consumption  of  coffee,  tobacco,  etc., 
from  the  time  they  were  first  imported,  to  the  time  they 
began  to  overstock  the  market.1  I  will  mention  a  dis- 
covery which  appears  to  be  less  favourable  to  my  argument, 
the  discovery  of  America.  This  discovery  was  imitated 
in  the  sense  that  the  first  voyage  from  Europe  to  America, 
which  was  conceived  of  and  executed  by  Columbus,  came 
to  be  repeated  more  and  more  frequently  by  subsequent 
navigators.  Every  variation  in  these  after-voyages  con- 
stituted a  little  discovery,  which  was  grafted  upon  that  of 
the  great  Genoese,  and  which,  in  turn,  found  imitators. 

I  will  take  advantage  of  this  example  to  open  a  paren- 
thesis. America  might  have  been  discovered  two  centur- 
ies earlier,  or  two  centuries  later,  by  an  imaginative  navi- 
gator. If  two  centuries  earlier,  if  in  1292,  the  opening 
out  of  a  new  world  had  been  offered  to  Philip  the  Fair, 
during  his  bouts  with  Rome  and  his  bold  attempt  at  seculari- 
sation and  administrative  centralisation,  his  ambition  would 

1  The  objection  may  be  raised  that  increasing  or  diminishing  series 
as  shown  in  the  continuous  statistics  of  a  given  number  of  years,  are 
never  regular,  and  are  often  upset  by  checks  and  reactions.  Without 
dwelling  upon  this  point,  I  may  say  that,  in  my  opinion,  these  checks 
and  reactions  are  always  indicative  of  the  interference  of  some  new 
invention,  which,  in  its  turn,  is  spread  abroad.  I  explain  diminishing 
series  in  the  same  way,  and  in  considering  them  we  must  be  careful 
not  to  infer  that  at  the  end  of  a  certain  time,  after  it  has  been  imitated 
more  and  more,  a  social  thing  tends  to  become  disimitated.  On  the 
contrary,  its  tendency  to  invade  the  world  continues  unchanged,  and 
if  there  be,  not  any  disimitation,  but  any  continuous  falling  off  of  imita- 
tion, its  rivals  are  alone  to  blame. 


Universal  Repetition  21 

have  surely  been  excited,  and  the  arrival  of  the  Modern 
Age  precipitated.  Two  centuries  later,  in  1692,  America 
would  unquestionably  have  been  of  greater  value  to  the 
France  of  Henry  IV.  than  to  Spain,  and  the  latter  country, 
not  having  had  this  rich  prey  to  batten  upon  for  two  hundred 
years,  would  have  been,  at  that  time,  less  rich  and  prosper- 
ous. Who  knows  whether,  under  the  first  hypothesis,  the 
Hundred  Years'  War  might  not  have  been  precluded  and, 
under  the  second,  the  empire  of  Charles  V.  ?  At  any  rate, 
the  need  of  having  colonies,  a  need  which  was  both  created 
and  satisfied  by  the  discovery  of  Christopher  Columbus 
and  one  which  has  played  such  a  leading  role  in  the  political 
life  of  Europe  since  the  fifteenth  century,  would  not  have 
arisen  until  the  seventeenth  century,  and,  at  the  pres- 
ent time,  South  America  would  belong  to  France,  and 
North  America  would  not  as  yet  amount  to  anything  politi- 
cally. What  a  difference  to  us !  And  to  think  that  Chris- 
topher Columbus  succeeded  by  a  mere  hair's  breadth  in  his 
enterprise!  But  a  truce  to  these  speculations  upon  the 
contingencies  of  the  past,  although,  in  my  opinion,  they  are 
as  well-founded  and  as  significant  as  those  of  the  future. 

Here  is  another  example,  the  most  striking  of  all.  The 
Roman  Empire  has  perished;  but,  as  has  been  well  said, 
the  conquest  of  Rome  lives  on  forever.  Through  Chris- 
tianity, Charlemagne  extended  it  to  the  Germans;  William 
the  Conqueror  extended  it  to  the  Anglo-Saxons;  and  Co- 
lumbus, to  America.  The  Russians  and  the  English  are 
extending  it  to  Asia  and  to  Australia,  and,  prospectively,  to 
the  whole  of  Oceanica.  Already  Japan  wishes  for  her  turn  to 
be  invaded;  it  seems  as  if  China  alone  would  offer  any 
serious  resistance.  But  if  we  assume  that  China  also 
will  become  assimilated,  we  can  say  that  Athens  and  Rome, 
including  Jerusalem,  that  is  to  say,  the  type  of  civilisation 
formed  by  the  group  of  their  combined  and  co-ordinated 
initiatives  and  master-thoughts,  have  conquered  the  en- 
tire world.  All  races  and  nationalities  will  have  con- 
tributed to  this  unbounded  contagious  imitation  of  Greco- 
Roman  civilisation.  The  outcome  would  certainly  have 


22  Laws  of  Imitation 

been  different  if  Darius  or  Xerxes  had  conquered  Greece  and 
reduced  it  to  a  Persian  province;  or  if  Islam  had  triumphed 
over  Charles  Martel  and  invaded  Europe;  or  if  peaceful 
and  industrious  China  had  been  belligerent  during  the  past 
three  thousand  years,  and  had  turned  its  spirit  of  invention 
towards  the  art  of  war  as  well  as  towards  the  arts  of 
peace;  or  if,  when  America  was  discovered,  gunpowder 
and  printing  had  not  yet  been  invented  and  Europeans  had 
proved  to  be  poorer  fighters  than  the  Aztecs  or  Incas.  But 
chance  determined  that  the  type  to  which  we  belong  should 
prevail  over  all  other  types  of  civilisation,  over  all  the 
clusters  of  radiant  inventions  which  have  flashed  out  spon- 
taneously in  different  parts  of  the  globe.  Even  if  our 
own  type  had  not  prevailed,  another  type  would  certainly 
have  triumphed  in  the  long  run,  for  one  type  was  bound 
to  become  universal,  since  all  laid  claim  to  universality, 
that  is  to  say,  since  all  tended  to  propagate  themselves 
through  imitation  in  a  geometrical  progression,  like  waves 
of  light  or  sound,  or  like  animal  or  vegetal  species. 

IV 

Let  me  point  out  a  new  order  of  analogies.  Imitations 
are  modified  in  passing  from  one  race  or  nation  to  another, 
like  vibrations  or  living  types  in  passing  from  one  environ- 
ment to  another.  We  see  this,  for  example,  in  the  transi- 
tion of  certain  words,  or  religious  myths,  or  military  secrets, 
or  literary  forms,  from  the  Hindoos  to  the  Germans,  or 
from  the  Latins  to  the  Gauls.  In  certain  cases,  the  record 
of  these  modifications  has  been  sufficiently  full  to  suggest 
what  their  general  and  uniform  trend  has  been.  This  is 
especially  true  of  language;  Grimm's,  or,  better  still,  Ray- 
nouard's,  laws  might  well  be  called  the  laws  of  linguistic 
refraction. 

According  to  Raynouard,  when  Latin  words  come  under 
Spanish  or  Gallic  influences,  they  are  consistently  and  char- 
acteristically transformed.  According  to  Grimm's  laws, 
a  given  consonant  in  German  or  English  is  equivalent  to 


Universal  Repetition  23 

another  given  consonant  in  Sanskrit  or  Greek.  This  fact 
means,  at  bottom,  that  in  passing  from  the  primitive  Aryan 
to  the  Teutonic  or  Hellenic  or  Hindoo  environments,  the 
parent-language  has  changed  its  consonants  in  a  given 
order,  substituting,  in  one  case,  an  aspirate  for  a  hard  check, 
in  another  a  hard  check  for  an  aspirate,  etc. 

If  there  were  as  many  religions  as  there  are  languages 
(and  there  are  hardly  enough  of  these  to  give  an  adequate 
basis  of  comparison  to  certain  general  observations  that 
might  be  formulated  into  linguistic  laws),  and,  above  all, 
if  religious  ideas  were  as  numerous  in  every  religion  as 
words  in  a  language,  we  might  have  laws  of  mythological 
refraction  analagous  to  those  of  language.  As  it  is,  we 
can  only  follow  a  given  myth  like  that  of  Ceres  or  Apollo, 
for  example,  through  the  modifications  which  have  been 
stamped  upon  it  by  the  genius  of  the  different  peoples  who 
have  adopted  it.  But  there  are  so  few  myths  to  compare 
in  this  way,  that  it  is  difficult  to  see  any  appreciable  common 
traits  in  the  turns  which  they  have  been  given  by  the  same 
people  at  different  times,  or  anything  more  than  a  general 
family  resemblance.  And  yet  have  we  not  much  to  observe 
in  a  study  of  the  forms  which  the  same  religious  ideas  have 
taken  on  as  they  passed  from  the  Vedas  to  the  doc- 
trines of  Brahma  or  Zoroaster,  from  Moses  to  Christ  or 
Mahomet,  or  as  they  circulated  through  the  dissentient 
Christian  sects  of  the  Greek,  Roman,  Anglican,  and  Gallic 
churches?  Perhaps  I  should  say  that  all  that  could  be  has 
already  been  observed  along  this  line  and  that  we  have  only 
to  draw  upon  this  material. 

Art  critics  have  likewise  had  a  confused  premonition  of 
the  laws  of  artistic  refraction,  so  to  speak.  These  laws  are 
peculiar  to  every  people,  in  all  epochs,  and  belong  to  every 
definite  centre  of  painting,  music,  architecture,  a'nd  poetry, 
to  Holland,  Italy,  France,  etc.  I  will  not  press  my  point. 
But  is  it  purely  metaphorical  and  puerile  to  say  that  Theoc- 
ritus is  refracted  in  Virgil;  Menander,  in  Terence;  Plato, 
in  Cicero;  Euripides,  in  Racine? 

Another  analogy.      Interferences   occur  between   imita- 


24  Laws  of  Imitation 

tions,  between  social  things,  as  well  as  between  vibrations 
and  between  living  types.  When  two  waves,  two  physical 
things  which  are  pretty  much  alike,  and  which  have  spread 
separately  from  two  distinct  centres,  meet  together  in  the 
same  physical  being,  in  the  same  particle  of  matter,  the 
impetus  of  each  is  increased  or  neutralised,  as  its  direction 
coincides  with,  or  is  diametrically  opposed  to,  the  direction 
of  the  other.  In  the  first  case,  a  new  and  complex  wave 
sets  in  which  is  stronger  than  the  others  and  which  tends  to 
propagate  itself  in  turn;  in  the  second,  struggle  and 
partial  destruction  follow,  until  one  of  the  two  rivals  has 
the  better  of  the  other.  In  the  same  way  we  know  what 
happens  when  two  specific  and  sufficiently  near  types,  two 
vital  things,  which  have  been  reproduced  independently  of 
each  other,  generation  after  generation,  come  into  mutual 
contact,  not  merely  in  one  place  (as  in  the  case  of  animals 
which  fight  or  devour  one  another,  which  would  be  a  strictly 
physical  encounter),  but,  more  than  that,  in  the  same 
living  being,  in  a  germ  cell  fertilised  by  hybrid  copulation, 
the  only  kind  of  encounter  and  interference  which  is  really 
vital.  In  this  case,  either  the  offspring  has  greater  vitality 
than  its  parents  and,  being  at  the  same  time  more  fruitful 
and  prolific,  transmits  its  distinctive  characteristics  to  a 
more  numerous  progeny,  a  veritable  discovery  of  life,  or 
it  is  more  puny,  and  gives  birth  to  a  few  stunted  descend- 
ants, in  whom  the  divorce  of  the  incompatible  characters  of 
their  unnaturally  united  progenitors  is  hastened  by  the 
distinct  triumph  of  one  in  expelling  the  other.  In  the 
same  way,  when  two  beliefs  or  two  desires,  or  a  belief 
and  a  desire,  in  short,  when  two  social  things  (in  the 
last  analysis  all  social  facts  are  beliefs  or  desires  under  the 
different  names  of  dogmas,  sentiment,  laws,  wants,  customs, 
morals,  etc:),  have  for  a  certain  time  travelled  their  separate 
roads  in  the  world  by  means  of  education  or  example, 
i.  e.,  of  imitation,  they  often  end  by  coming  into  mutual 
contact.  In  order  that  their  encounter  and  interference 
may  be  really  psychological  and  social,  co-existence  in 
the  same  brain  and  participation  in  the  same  state  of 


Universal  Repetition  25 

mind  and  heart  is  not  only  necessary,  but,  in  addition, 
one  must  present  itself  either  in  support  of,  or  in  opposition 
to  the  other,  either  as  a  principle,  of  which  the  other  is  a 
corollary,  or  as  an  affirmative,  of  which  the  other  is  the  nega- 
tive. As  for  the  beliefs  and  desires  which  seem  neither  to 
aid  nor  injure,  neither  to  confirm  nor  contradict,  each  other, 
they  cannot  interfere  with  each  other  any  more  than  two 
heterogeneous  waves  or  two  livingtypes  which  are  too  distant 
from  each  other  to  unite.  If  they  do  appear  to  help  or  con- 
firm each  other,  they  combine  by  the  very  fact  of  this  ap- 
pearance or  perception  into  a  new  practical  or  theoretic  dis- 
covery, which  is,  in  turn,  bound  to  spread  abroad,  like  its 
components,  in  contagious  imitation.  In  this  case,  there  has 
been  a  gain  in  the  force  of  desire  or  belief,  as  in  the  corre- 
sponding cases  of  propitious  physical  or  biological  interfer- 
ence there  was  a  gain  in  motor  power  or  vitality.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  interfering  social  things,  theses  or  aims,  dog- 
mas or  interests,  convictions  or  passions,  are  mutually  hurt- 
ful and  antagonistic  in  the  soul  of  an  individual,  or  in  that  of 
a  whole  people,  both  the  individual  and  the  community  will 
morally  stagnate  in  doubt  and  indecision,  until  their  soul  is 
rent  in  two  by  some  sudden  or  prolonged  effort,  and  the 
less  cherished  belief  or  passion  is  sacrificed.  Thus  life 
chooses  between  two  miscoupled  types.  A  particularly  im- 
portant case  and  one  which  differs  slightly  from  the  preced- 
ing is  that  in  which  the  two  beliefs  or  desires,  as  well  as  the 
belief  and  the  desire,  which  interfere  happily  or  unhappily 
in  the  mind  of  an  individual,  are  not  experienced  exclu- 
sively by  him,  but  in  part  by  him,  and  in  part  by  one  of  his 
fellows.  Here  the  interference  consists  in  the  fact  that  the 
individual  is  aware  of  the  confirmation  or  disproof  of  his 
own  idea  by  the  idea  of  others,  and  of  the  advantage  or 
injury  accruing  to  his  own  will  from  the  will  of  others. 
From  this,  sympathy  and  agreement,  or  antipathy  and 
war,  result.1 

1  The  likeness  which  I  have  pointed  out  between  heredity  and  imita- 
tion is  verified  even  in  the  relation  of  each  of  these  two  forms  of  uni- 
versal Repetition  to  its  special  form  of  Creation  or  Invention.  As  long 
as  a  society  is  young,  vigorous,  and  progressive,  inventions,  new  proj- 


26  Laws  of  Imitation 

But  all  of  this,  I  feel,  needs  to  be  elucidated.  Let  us 
distinguish  between  three  hypotheses:  the  propitious  inter- 
ference of  two  beliefs,  of  two  desires,  and  of  a  belief  and  a 
desire;  and  let  us  subdivide  each  one  of  these  divisions  as 
the  subjects  of  interference  are,  or  are  not,  found  in  the 
same  individual.  Later  on,  I  shall  have  a  word  to  say 
about  unpropitious  interferences. 

i.  If  a  conjecture  which  I  have  considered  fairly  prob- 
able comes  into  my  mind  while  I  am  reading  or  remem- 
bering a  fact  which  I  think  is  almost  certain,  and  if  I  sud- 
denly perceive  that  the  fact  confirms  the  conjecture  of 
which  it  is  a  consequence  (t.  e.,  the  particular  proposition 
which  expresses  the  fact  is  included  in  the  general  proposi- 
tion which  expresses  the  conjecture),  the  conjecture  im- 
mediately becomes  much  more  probable  in  my  eyes,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  the  fact  appears  to  me  to  be  an  absolute 
certainty.  So  that  there  is  a  gain  in  belief  all  along  the 
line.  And  the  perception  of  this  logical  inclusion  is  a  discov- 
ery. Newton  discovered  nothing  more  than  this  when,  hav- 
ing brought  his  conjectured  law  of  gravitation  face  to  face 
with  the  calculation  of  the  distance  from  the  moon  to  the 

ects,  and  successful  initiatives  follow  one  another  in  rapid  succession, 
and  hasten  social  changes ;  then,  when  the  inventive  sap  is  exhausted, 
imitation  still  continues  upon  its  course.  India,  China,  and  the  late 
Roman  Empire  are  examples  in  point.  Now  this  is  also  true  of  the 
world  of  life.  For  example,  M.  Gaudry  says  in  referring  to  the 
crinoidea  (echinoderms)  [Enchainment  du  monde  animal  (secondary 
period)]:  "They  have  lost  that  marvellous  diversity  of  form  which 
was  one  of  the  luxuries  of  the  primary  period ;  no  longer  having  the 
power  of  much  self-mutation,  they  still  retain  that  of  producing  indi- 
viduals like  themselves."  But  this  is  not  always  so.  In  the  geologi- 
cal epochs,  certain  families  or  types  of  animals  disappeared  after  their 
most  brilliant  period.  This  was  the  case  with  the  ammonite,  that 
wonderful  fossil  which  flourished  in  such  exuberant  variety,  during 
the  secondary  period,  and  which  was,  subsequently,  annihilated  forever. 
This  was  also  the  case  with  those  brief  and  brilliant  civilisations  which, 
like  ephemeral  stars,  glittered  for  a  day  in  the  sky  of  history,  and 
were  then  suddenly  extinguished.  I  refer  to  the  Persia  of  Cyrus,  to 
some  of  the  Greek  republics,  to  the  south  of  France  at  the  time  of  the 
war  of  the  Albigenses,  to  the  Italian  republics,  etc.  When  the  crea- 
tive power  of  these  civilisations  was  worn  out,  not  even  the  power 
to  reproduce  themselves  remained.  In  fact,  in  most  cases,  they  would 
have  been  precluded  from  doing  so  by  their  own  violent  destruction. 


Universal  Repetition  27 

earth,  he  perceived  that  this  fact  confirmed  his  hypothesis. 
Let  us  suppose  that,  for  a  century  long,  an  entire  people 
is  led  by  one  of  its  teachers,  by  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  for 
example,  or  by  Arnaud  or  Bossuet,  to  prove,  or  to  think 
that  it  is  proving,  that  a  like  agreement  exists  between  its  re- 
ligious dogmas  and  the  contemporaneous  state  of  its  sciences. 
Then  we  shall  see  such  an  overflowing  river  of  faith    as 
that  which  fructified  the  logical  and  inventive  and  warlike 
thirteenth  and  the  Janseist  and  Gallican  seventeenth  centu- 
ries.    A  harmony  like  this  is  nothing  less  than  a  discovery. 
The  Summa,  the  catechism  of  Port-Royal  and  the  French 
clergy,    and   all    the   philosophic    systems    of   the   period, 
from    Descartes    himself    to    Leibnitz,    are,    in    different 
degrees,  its  various   expressions.     Now   let   us  somewhat 
modify  our  general  proposition.     Let  us  suppose  that  I  am 
inclined  to  endorse  a  principle  which  the  friend  with  whom 
I  am  talking  absolutely  refuses  to  accept.    On  the  other  hand, 
he  tells  me  certain  facts  which  he  thinks  are  true,  but  which 
I  take  to  be  unverified.     Subsequently,  it  seems  to  me,  or 
rather,  if  flashes  upon  me,  that  if  these  facts  were  proved, 
they  would  fully  confirm  my  principle.     From  now  on,  I, 
also,  am  inclined  to  credit  them;  but  the  only  gain  in  belief 
has  been  one  in  regard  to  them,  not  in  regard  to  my  prin- 
ciple.    Besides,  this  kind  of  discovery  is  incomplete;  it  will 
have  no  social  effect  until  my  friend  either  succeeds  in  im- 
parting to  me,  through  proofs,  his  belief,  which  is  greater 
than  mine,  in  the  reality  of  the  facts,  or  I  myself  can  prove 
to  him  the  truth  of  my  principle.     Here  is  precisely  the  ad- 
vantage of  a  wide  and  free  intellectual  commerce. 

2.  The  first  mediaeval  merchant  who  was  both  vain  and 
avaricious  and  who,  in  his  unwillingness  to  forego  either 
commercial  wealth  or  social  position,  came  to  perceive  the 
possibility  of  making  avarice  serve  the  ends  of  vanity, 
through  the  purchase  of  a  title  of  nobility  for  himself  and 
his  family,  thought  he  had  made  a  fine  discovery.  And,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  he  had  numerous  imitators.  Is  it  not  true 
that  after  this  unhoped-for  prospect,  both  his  passions  re- 
doubled in  strength?  Did  not  his  avarice  increase  because 


28  Laws  of  Imitation 

gold  had  gained  a  new  value  in  his  eyes,  and  his  vanity, 
because  the  object  of  his  ambitious  and  hitherto-despaired- 
of  dream  had  come  within  reach  ?  To  give,  perhaps,  a  more 
modern  illustration,  the  first  lawyer  who  reversed  the  usual 
order  of  things  by  going  into  politics  in  order  to  make  his 
fortune,  introduced  neither  a  bad  idea  nor  an  ineffective 
initiative.  Let  us  take  other  instances.  Suppose  that  I 
am  in  love  and  that  I  also  have  a  passion  for  rhyming.  I 
turn  my  love  to  inspiring  my  metromania.  My  love  quick- 
ens and  my  rhyming  mania  is  intensified.  How  many 
poetical  works  have  originated  in  this  kind  of  an  inter- 
ference! Suppose,  again,  that  I  am  a  philanthropist  and 
that  I  like  notoriety.  In  this  case,  I  will  strive  to  distin- 
guish myself  in  order  to  do  more  good  to  my  fellows,  and 
I  will  strive  to  be  useful  to  them,  in  order  to  make  a  name 
for  myself,  etc.,  etc.  In  history  the  same  phenomenon 
occurs.  After  a  long  period  of  mutual  opposition,  Chris- 
tian zeal  combined  with  the  contemporary  passion  for  war- 
like expeditions  and  produced  the  outbreak  of  the  Crusades. 
The  invasion  of  Islam,  the  Jacqueries  of  '89  and  of  the  years 
following,  and  all  revolutions  in  which  so  many  base  pas- 
sions are  yoked  to  noble  ones,  are  notable  examples.  But, 
happily,  a  still  more  contagious  example  was  set  in  the  be- 
ginnings of  social  life  by  the  first  man  who  said :  "  I  am 
hungry  and  my  neighbour  is  cold ;  I  will  offer  him  this  gar- 
ment, which  is  useless  to  me,  in  exchange  for  some  of  the 
food  which  he  has  in  excess,  and  so  my  need  of  food  will  help 
satisfy  his  need  of  clothing,  and  vice  versa.  In  this  ex- 
cellent and  very  simple,  but,  for  that  time,  highly  original, 
idea,  industry,  commerce,  money,  law,  and  all  the  arts  origi- 
nated. (I  do  not  date  the  birth  of  society  from  this  idea, 
for  society  undoubtedly  existed  before  exchange.  It  began 
on  the  day  when  one  man  first  copied  another). 

Let  us  note  that  all  new  forms  of  professional  work,  that 
all  new  crafts,  have  arisen  from  analogous  discoveries. 
These  discoveries  have  generally  been  anonymous,  but 
they  are  none  the  less  positive  and  significant. 

3.  In  historical  importance,   however,  no  mental  inter- 


Universal  Repetition  29 

ference  equals  that  of  a  desire  and  a  belief.  But  the  numer- 
ous cases  in  which  a  conviction  or  opinion  fastens  itself 
upon  an  inclination,  and  effects  it  merely  through  inspiring 
another  desire,  must  not  be  included  in  this  category.  After 
these  cases  have  been  eliminated,  there  still  remains  a  con- 
siderable number  in  which  the  supervening  idea  acts  directly 
upon  the  desire  it  has  fallen  in  with  and  stimulated.  Sup- 
pose, for  example,  that  I  would  like  to  be  an  orator  in  the 
Chamber  of  Deputies,  and  I  am  straightway  persuaded  by 
the  compliment  of  a  friend  that  I  have  recently  displayed 
true  oratorical  talent.  This  conviction  enhances  my  am- 
bition, and  my  ambition  itself  contributed  to  my  conviction. 
For  the  same  reason,  there  is  no  historical  error,  no  atrocious 
or  extravagant  calumny  or  madness,  which  is  not  readily 
entertained  by  the  very  political  passion  which  it  helps  to 
inflame.  A  belief  will  also  stimulate  a  desire,  now  by 
making  its  object  seem  mere  attainable,  now  by  stamping 
it  with  its  approval.  It  also  happens,  to  complete  our  an- 
alysis, that  a  man  may  realise  that  his  own  scheme  will  be 
helped  by  the  belief  of  others,  although  he  may  have  no 
share  in  their  belief,  nor  they  in  his  scheme.  Such  a  reali- 
sation is  a  -find  that  many  an  impostor  has  exploited  and 
still  exploits. 

This  special  kind  of  interferences  and  the  important  un- 
named discoveries  which  result  from  them,  are  to  be  counted 
among  the  chief  forces  which  rule  the  world.  What  was  the 
patriotism  of  Greek  or  Roman  but  a  passion  nourished  by  an 
illusion  and  vice  versa;  what  was  it  but  ambition,  avarice,  and 
love  of  fame  nourished  by  an  exaggerated  belief  in  their  own 
superiority,  by  the  anthropocentric  prejudice,  the  mistake 
of  imagining  that  this  little  point  in  space,  the  earth,  was 
the  universe,  and  that  on  this  little  point  Rome  or  Athens 
was  alone  worthy  of  the  gods'  consideration?  What  are,  in 
large  part,  the  fanaticism  of  the  Arab,  the  proselytism  of 
the  Christian,  and  the  propagandism  of  Jacobin  and  revo- 
lutionary doctrines  but  prodigious  outgrowths  of  illusion- 
fed  passions  and  passion-fed  illusions?  And  these  forces 
always  arise  from  one  person,  from  a  single  centre,  long 


30  Laws  of  Imitation 

in  advance,  to  be  sure,  of  the  moment  when  they  break  forth 
and  take  on  historical  importance.  An  enthusiast,  eaten  up 
with  an  impotent  desire  for  conquest,  or  immortality, 
or  human  regeneration,  chances  upon  some  idea  which 
opens  an  unhoped-for  door  to  his  aspirations.  The  idea 
may  be  that  of  the  Resurrection  or  the  Millennium, 
the  dogma  of  popular  sovereignty  or  some  other  formula 
of  the  Social  Contract.  He  embraces  the  idea,  it  exalts 
him,  and  behold,  a  new  apostle!  In  this  way  a  political 
or  religious  contagion  is  spread  abroad.  In  this  way  a 
whole  people  may  be  converted  to  Christianity,  to  Islam, 
and,  to-morrow,  perhaps,  to  socialism. 

In  the  preceding  paragraphs  we  have  discussed  only 
interference-combinations,  interferences  which  result  in 
discovery  and  gain  and  add  to  the  two  psychological  quan- 
tities of  desire  and  belief.  But  that  long  sequence  of  opera- 
tions in  moral  arithmetic,  which  we  call  history,  ushers  in 
at  least  as  many  interference-conflicts.  When  these  sub- 
jective antagonisms  arise  between  the  desires  and  beliefs  of 
a  single  individual,  and  only  in  this  case,  there  is  an  absolute 
diminution  in  the  sum  of  those  quantities.  When  they  oc- 
cur obscurely,  here  and  there,  in  isolated  individuals,  they 
pass  by  unnoticed  except  by  psychologists.  Then  we  have 
(i)  on  the  one  side,  the  deceptions  and  gradual  doubts  of 
bold  theorists  and  political  prophets  as  they  come  to  see  facts 
giving  the  lie  to  their  speculations  and  ridiculing  their  pre- 
dictions, and  the  intellectual  weakening  of  sincere  and  well- 
informed  believers  who  perceive  the  contradiction  between 
their  science  and  their  religion  or  philosophic  systems;  and, 
on  the  other  side,  the  private  and  juristic  and  parliamen- 
tary discussions  in  which  belief  is  rekindled  instead  of 
smothered.  Again,  we  have  (2)  on  the  one  side,  the  en- 
forced and  bitter  inaction,  the  slow  suicide  of  a  man  strug- 
gling between  two  incompatible  aptitudes  or  inclinations, 
between  scientific  ardour  and  literary  aspirations,  between 
love  and  ambition,  between  pride  and  indolence,  and,  on  the 
other  side,  those  various  rivalries  and  competitions  which 
put  every  spring  into  action — what  we  call  in  these  days 


Universal  Repetition  31 

the  struggle  for  existence.  Finally,  we  have  (3)  on  the  one 
side,  the  malady  of  despair,  a  state  of  intense  longing  and 
intense  self-doubt,  the  abyss  of  lovers  and  of  those  weary 
with  waiting,  or  the  anguish  of  scruple  and  remorse,  the 
feeling  of  a  soul  which  thinks  ill  of  the  object  of  its  desire, 
or  well  of  the  object  of  its  aversion;  and,  on  the  other 
side,  the  irritating  resistance  which  is  made  to  the  under- 
takings and  eager  passions  of  children  and  innovators  by 
parents  who  are  convinced  of  their  danger  and  impracti- 
cability and  by  people  of  prudence  and  experience. 

When  these  same  phenomena  (at  bottom  they  are  always 
the  same)  are  enacted  upon  a  large  scale  and  multiplied  by 
a  large  and  powerful  social  current  of  imitation,  they  attain 
historical  importance.  Under  other  names,  they  become, 
( i )  on  the  one  hand,  the  enervating  scepticism  of  a  people 
caught  between  two  hostile  churches  or  religions  or  be- 
tween the  contradictions  of  its  priests  and  its  scientists;  on 
the  other,  the  religious  wars  which  are  waged  by  one 
people  against  another  merely  because  of  differences  in  re- 
ligious belief;  (2)  on  the  one  hand,  the  failure  and  inertia 
of  a  people  or  class  which  has  created  for  itself  artificial 
passions  contrary  to  its  natural  instincts  (i.  e.,  at  bottom,  to 
passions  which  also  began  by  being  artificial,  by  being 
adopted  from  foreign  sources,  but  which  are  much  older  than 
the  former  passions),  or  desires  inconsistent  with  its  per- 
manent interests,  the  desire  for  peace  and  comfort,  for  exam- 
ple, when  a  redoubling  of  military  spirit  was  indispensable; 
on  the  other  hand,  the  majority  of  external  political  wars; 
(3)  on  the  one  hand,  civil  warfare  and  oppositions  strictly 
speaking,  struggles  between  conservatives  and  revolution- 
ists; on  the  other,  the  despair  of  a  people  or  class  which 
is  gradually  sinking  back  into  the  historical  oblivion  whence 
it  had  been  drawn  by  some  outburst  of  faith  and  enthusiasm, 
or  the  irritation  and  oppression  of  a  society  distressed  by  a 
conflict  between  its  ancient  maxims  and  traditions  and  its 
new  aspirations,  between  Christianity  and  chivalry,  for  ex- 
ample, and  industrialism  and  utilitarianism. 

Now  in  the  case  of  both  individuals  and  societies,  the 


32  Laws  of  Imitation 

doleful  states  of  scepticism,  inertia,  and  despair,  and,  still 
more,  the  violent  and  more  painful  states  of  dispute,  com- 
bat, and  opposition  are  quick  to  push  man  on  to  their  own 
undoing.  Nevertheless,  although  man  often  succeeds  in  de- 
livering himself  for  long  periods  from  the  former,  which 
imply  the  immediate  weakening  of  his  two  master  forces, 
he  never  overcomes  the  latter,  or  if  he  does  free  himself 
from  them  it  is  merely  to  fall  into  them  again,  since,  up  to 
a  certain  point,  they  bring  with  them  momentary  gams  of 
belief  and  desire.  Whence  the  interminable  dissensions, 
rivalries,  and  contradictions  which  befall  mankind  and  which 
each  one  can  settle  for  himself  only  by  adopting  some 
logical  system  of  thought  and  conduct.  Whence  the  im- 
possibility, or  the  seeming  impossibility,  of  extirpating  the 
wars  and  litigations  from  which  everybody  suffers,  al- 
though the  subjective  strife  of  desires  and  opinions  which 
afflicts  some  people  generally  ends  for  them  in  definite  treat- 
ies of  peace.  Whence  the  endless  rebirth  of  the  eternal 
hydra-headed  social  question,  a  question  which  is  not  pecul- 
iar to  our  own  time,  but  which  belongs  to  all  time,  for  it 
does  not  investigate  into  the  outcome  of  the  debilitating, 
but  into  that  of  the  violent,  states  of  desire  and  belief.  In 
other  words,  it  does  not  ask  whether  science  or  religion 
will,  or  should,  ultimately  prevail  in  the  great  majority  of 
minds;  whether  desire  for  social  order  or  rebellious  out- 
bursts of  social  envy,  pride,  and  hatred  will,  or  should,  ulti- 
mately prove  the  stronger  in  human  hearts;  whether  a 
positive  and  courageous  resignation  of  old  pretensions  or, 
on  the  contrary,  a  new  outburst  of  hope  and  self-confidence 
will  help  our  sometime  ruling  classes  to  rid  themselves 
to  their  honour  of  their  present  torpor;  whether  the  old  mo- 
rality will  have  the  right  and  the  power  to  influence  society 
again,  or  whether  the  society  of  the  future  will  legitimately 
establish  a  code  of  honour  and  morality  in  its  own  likeness. 
The  solution  of  these  problems  will  not  be  long  delayed,  and 
it  is  not  difficult,  even  at  present,  to  foresee  its  nature. 
Whereas  the  problems  which  really  constitute  the  social 
question  are  arduous  and  difficult.  The  problems  are  these : 


Universal  Repetition  33 

Is  it  a  good  or  a  bad  thing  for  a  complete  intellectual 
unanimity  to  be  established  through  the  expulsion  or  the 
more  or  less  tyrannical  conversion  of  a  dissenting  minority, 
and  will  this  ever  come  about  ?  Is  it  a  good  or  a  bad  thing 
for  commercial  or  professional  or  personal  competition  be- 
tween individuals,  as  well  as  political  and  military  com- 
petition between  societies,  to  come  to  be  suppressed,  the  one 
through  the  much-dreamed-of  organisation  of  labour,  or,  at 
least,  through  state  socialism,  and  the  other  through  a  vast, 
universal  confederation,  or,  at  least,  through  a  new  Euro- 
pean equilibrium,  the  first  step  towards  the  United  States 
of  Europe?  Does  the  future  hold  this  in  store  for  us? 
Is  it  a  good  or  a  bad  thing  for  a  strong  and  free  social  au- 
thority, an  absolutely  sovereign  authority,  capable  of  gran- 
diose things,  as  philanthropic  and  intelligent  as  possible, 
to  arise,  untrammelled  by  outside  control  or  resistance, 
as  a  supreme  imperial  or  constitutional  power  in  the  hands 
of  a  single  party  or  a  single  people?  Have  we  any  such 
prospect  in  view? 

This  is  the  question,  and  stated  thus  it  is  a  truly  redoubt- 
able one.  Mankind,  as  well  as  the  individual  man,  always 
moves  in  the  direction  of  the  greatest  truth  and  power,  of 
the  greatest  sum  of  conviction  and  confidence,  in  a  word,  of 
the  greatest  attainable  belief;  and  we  may  question  whether 
this  maximum  can  be  reached  though  the  development  of 
discussion,  competition,  and  criticism,  or,  inversely,  through 
their  suppression  and  through  the  boundless  opening  out 
through  imitation  of  a  single  expanding  and  at  che  same 
time  compact  thought  or  volition. 


But  the  preceding  digression  has  made  us  anticipate 
questions  which  can  be  discussed  more  advantageously  else- 
where. Let  us  return  to  the  subject  of  this  chapter,  and, 
after  reviewing  the  principal  analogies  between  the  three 
forms  of  Repetition,  let  us  note  for  a  moment  their  equally 
instructive  points  of  difference.  In  the  first  place,  the  soli- 


34  Laws  of  Imitation 

darity  of  these  forms  is  not  reciprocal,  it  is  one-sided. 
Generation  depends  upon  undulation,  but  undulation  does 
not  depend  upon  generation.  Imitation  depends  upon  them 
both;  but  they  do  not  depend  upon  imitation.  After  two 
thousand  years,  the  manuscript  of  Cicero's  Republic  was 
recovered  and  published.  It  became  a  source  of  inspira- 
tion. This  posthumous  imitation  would  not  have  occurred 
if  the  molecules  of  the  parchment  had  not  surely  continued 
to  vibrate  (if  only  from  the  effect  of  the  surrounding  tem- 
perature) ;  and  if,  in  addition,  human  reproduction  had 
not  gone  on  from  Cicero  to  us  without  interrup- 
tion. It  is  remarkable  that  here,  as  elsewhere,  the  most 
complex  and  unconditioned  term  is  always  supported  by 
those  which  are  least  so.  The  inequality  of  the  three 
terms  in  this  respect  is,  indeed,  obvious.  Vibrations  are 
linked  together,  being  both  isochronous  and  contiguous, 
whereas  living  things  are  detached  and  separate  from 
each  other,  and  their  duration  varies  considerably.  More- 
over, the  higher  up  in  the  scale  they  are,  the  more  indepen- 
dent they  become.  Generation  is  a  free  kind  of  undulation, 
whose  waves  are  worlds  in  themselves.  Imitation  does 
still  better;  its  influence  is  exerted  not  only  over  a  great 
distance,  but  over  great  intervals  of  time.  It  establishes 
a  pregnant  relation  between  the  inventor  and  his  copier, 
separated  as  they  may  be  by  thousands  of  years,  between 
Lycurgus  and  a  member  of  the  French  Convention,  between 
the  Roman  painter  of  a  Pompeiian  fresco  and  the  modern 
decorator  whom  it  has  inspired.  Imitation  is  generation 
at  a  distance.1  It  seems  as  if  these  three  forms  of  repeti- 
tion were  three  undertakings  of  its  single  endeavour  to  ex- 
tend the  field  of  its  activity,  to  successfully  cut  off  every 

1  If,  as  Ribot  thinks,  memory  is  only  the  cerebral  form  of  nutrition, 
if,  on  the  other  hand,  nutrition  is  only  an  internal  generation,  finally, 
if  Imitation  is  nothing  but  social  memory  (see  my  Logique  sociale  on 
this  subject),  it  follows  that  there  is  not  only  an  analogy,  as  I  have 
shown,  between  Generation  and  Imitation,  but  a  fundamental  identity. 
Imitation,  the  elementary  and  persistent  social  phenomenon,  would  be 
the  social  sequel  and  equivalent  of  Generation  taken  in  its  most  compre- 
hensive sense  to  include  Nutrition. 


Universal  Repetition  35 

chance  of  revolt  in  elements  which  are  always  quick  to  over- 
throw the  yoke  of  law,  and  by  more  and  more  ingenious  and 
potent  methods  to  constrain  their  tumultuous  crowd  to  pro- 
ceed in  orderly  masses  of  constantly  increasing  strength  and 
organisation.  This  advance  may  be  illustrated  by  compar- 
ing it  to  that  of  a  cyclone  or  epidemic  or  insurrection.  A 
cyclone  whirls  from  neighbourhood  to  neighbourhood ;  none 
of  its  blast  ever  tears  from  it  to  leap  over  intervening  space 
and  carry  its  virus  to  a  distance.  An  epidemic,  on  the  other 
hand,  rages  in  a  zig-zag  line;  it  may  spare  one  house  or  vil-i 
lage  among  many,  and  it  strikes  down  almost  simultane- 
ously those  which  are  far  apart.  An  insurrection  will 
spread  still  more  freely  from  workshop  to  workshop,  or 
from  capital  to  capital.  It  may  start  from  a  telegraphic  an- 
nouncement, or,  at  times,  the  contagion  may  even  come 
from  the  past,  out  of  a  dead  and  buried  epoch. 

There  is  still  another  important  difference.  In  imita- 
tion, the  product  is  generally  in  a  state  of  complete  de- 
velopment; it  is  spared  the  fumblings  of  the  first  workman. 
This  artistic  kind  of  process  is  consequently  much  more 
rapid  than  the  vital  process;  embryonic  phases  and  phases 
of  infancy  and  adolescence  are  suppressed.  And  yet  life  it- 
self does  not  ignore  the  art  of  abbreviation.  For  if,  as  is 
thought,  embryonic  phases  repeat  (with  certain  restric- 
tions) the  zoological  and  paleontological  series  of  preced- 
ing and  allied  species,  it  is  clear  that  this  individual  re- 
capitulation of  a  prolonged  race  elaboration  must  have  be- 
come marvellously  succinct  at  last.  But  during  the  course 
of  the  generations  which  pass  under  our  own  observation, 
periods  of  gestation  and  growth  are  not  noticeably  cur- 
tailed. The  only  fact  that  can  be  determined  in  this  direc- 
tion is  the  reproduction  of  hereditary  traits  or  diseases  at  an 
earlier  age  in  the  offspring  than  in  the  parent.  Let  us  com- 
pare this  slight  advance  with  the  progress  of  our  manufac- 
tures. Our  watches,  pins,  textiles,  all  our  goods,  are  manu- 
factured in  one-tenth  or  one-hundredth  part  of  the  time 
which  they  originally  required.  As  for  vibration,  in  what 
an  infinitesimal  degree  it  shares  in  this  faculty  of  accelera- 


36  Laws  of  Imitation 

tion !  Successive  waves  would  be  strictly  isochronous,  that 
is,  would  take  the  same  amount  of  time  to  be  born,  mature, 
and  die  in,  if  their  temperature  remained  constant.  But 
their  oscillation  necessarily  results  in  the  heating  of  their 
medium  (this  fact  is  known,  at  least,  in  the  case  of  sound 
waves,  according  to  the  correction  made  in  Newton's  for- 
mula by  La  Place),  and  in  the  consequent  acceleration  of 
their  rate.  This  brings  with  it  but  little  saving  of  time, 
however.  There  is  infinitely  more  time  gained  from  the 
mechanisms  for  repetition  which  characterise  life  and, 
especially,  society;  for  the  products  of  imitation,  as  I  have 
said  before,  are  entirely  free  from  the  obligation  to  traverse, 
even  in  abridgment,  the  steps  of  prior  advances.  Changes 
in  the  world  of  life  are  also  much  less  rapid  than  those  in 
society.  The  most  earnest  upholder  of  the  doctrine  of 
rapid  evolution  will  readily  admit  that  the  wing  of  the  bird 
did  not  replace  the  limb  of  the  reptile  as  rapidly  as  our 
modern  locomotives  were  substituted  for  stage-coaches. 
One  of  the  consequences  of  this  observation  is  to  relegate 
historic  naturalism  to  its  true  place.  According  to  this 
view,  social  institutions,  laws,  ideas,  literature,  and  arts  must 
always,  of  necessity,  spring  from  the  very  bottom  of  a  peo- 
ple to  slowly  germinate  and  blossom  forth  like  bulbs. 
Nothing  can  ever  be  created,  complete  in  all  its  parts,  in  a 
nation's  soil.  This  proposition  holds  true  as  long  as  a  com- 
munity has  not  passed  beyond  the  natural  phase  of  its  ex- 
istence, that  in  which,  under  the  dominating  rule  of  custom- 
imitation,  to  which  I  will  refer  later  on,  its  changes  are  as 
much  conditioned  by  heredity  as  by  imitation  pure  and 
simple.  But  as  soon  as  imitation  becomes  freer,  as  soon  as 
a  spirit  of  radicalism  arises  which  threatens  to  carry  out  its 
revolutionary  programme  overnight,  we  must  beware  of 
any  undue  reassurance,  against  the  possibility  of  such  a 
danger,  that  we  might  base  upon  the  alleged  laws  of  his- 
toric growth.  It  is  a  mistake  in  politics  not  to  believe  in 
the  improbable  and  never  to  foresee  what  has  not  already 
been  seen. 


CHAPTER  II 

SOCIAL   RESEMBLANCES   AND   IMITATION 

IN  the  preceding  chapter  I  merely  stated,  without  de- 
veloping, the  thesis  that  imitation  is  the  cause  of  all  social 
likeness.  But  this  formula  must  not  be  lightly  accepted; 
to  grasp  its  truth  and  that  of  the  two  analogous  formulas 
relating  to  biological  and  physical  resemblances,  it  must 
be  thoroughly  understood:  Upon  our  first  glance  at  so- 
cieties, exceptions  and  objections  seem  to  abound. 

i.  In  the  first  place,  many  points  of  anatomical  or  phy- 
siological likeness  between  two  living  species  belonging 
to  different  types  cannot  be  explained,  apparently,  by  hered- 
itary repetition,  because  in  many  cases  the  common  pro- 
genitor to  whom  they  may  both  be  traced,  is,  or  theoretically 
should  be,  without  the  characteristics  in  question.  The 
whale,  for  example,  assuredly  does  not  inherit  its  fishlike 
shape  from  the  common  hypothetical  forefather  from 
which  both  fish  and  mammals  must  have  developed.  If 
a  bee  reminds  us  in  its  flight  of  a  bird,  we  have  still 
less  reason  for  thinking  that  bird  and  bee  have  inherited 
their  wings  and  elytra  from  their  very  remote  ancestor, 
who  was  probably  a  creeping  and  non-flying  creature.  The 
same  observation  may  be  made  about  the  similar  instincts 
that  are  displayed,  according  to  Darwin  and  Romanes,  by 
many  animals  of  very  distant  species.  Take,  for  example, 
the  instinct  to  sham  death  as  a  means  of  escape  from  danger. 
This  instinct  is  common  to  the  fox,  to  certain  insects,  spi- 
ders, serpents,  and  birds.  In  this  case,  similarity  of  in- 
stinct can  be  accounted  for  only  through  homogeneity  of 
physical  environment.  All  these  heterogeneous  creatures 
have  depended  upon  the  same  environment  for  the  satisfac- 
tion of  those  fundamental  wants  which  are  essential  to  all 
life  and  which  are  identical  in  each  one  of  them.  Now, 

37 


38  Laws  of  Imitation 

homogeneity  of  physical  environment  is  nothing  else  but 
the  uniform  propagation  of  homogeneous  waves  of  light  or 
heat 'or  sound  through  air  or  water  that  is  itself  composed 
of  atoms  in  constant  and  uniform  vibration.  As  for  the 
homogeneity  of  the  fundamental  functions  and  properties 
of  every  cell,  of  all  protoplasm  (of  nutrition,  for  example, 
or  of  irritability),  must  it  not  be  explained  through  the 
molecular  constitution  of  the  ever  homogeneous  chemical 
elements  of  life,  that  is,  according  to  hypothesis,  through 
the  inner  rhythms  of  their  indefinitely  repeated  movements, 
rather  than  through  the  transmission  of  characteristics,  by 
fission  or  some  other  kind  of  reproduction,  from  the  first 
protoplasmic  germ,  admitting  that  in  the  beginning  only  a 
single  germ  was  spontaneously  formed?  Therefore,  al- 
though the  above  class  of  analogies  is  not  due  to  the  vital 
or  hereditary  form  of  repetition,  it  has  originated  in  its 
physical  or  vibratory  form. 

In  like  manner  there  are  always  between  two  separate 
peoples  who  have  reached  an  original  civilisation  by  inde- 
pendent routes,  certain  general  resemblances  in  language, 
mythology,  politics,  industry,  art,  and  literature,  where 
mutual  imitation  plays  no  part.  Quatrefages  relates  that 
"  when  Cook  visited  the  New  Zealanders,  they  were  strange- 
ly like  the  Highlanders  of  Rob  Roy  and  Maclvoy  "  (Espece 
humaine,  p.  336).  Now,  resemblance  between  the  social 
organisation  of  the  Maoris  and  the  ancient  Scotch  clans 
is  certainly  not  due  to  any  common  ground  of  traditions,  and 
no  philologist  would  amuse  himself  by  deriving  their  respec- 
tive tongues  from  a  common  parent  language.  When  Cortez 
reached  Mexico,  he  found  that  the  Aztecs,  like  many  Old- 
World  nations,  were  possessed  of  a  king  and  orders  of  nobil- 
ity and  of  agricultural  and  industrial  classes.  Their  agricul- 
ture, with  its  floating  islands  and  perfected  system  of  irri- 
gation, was  suggestive  of  China;  their  architecture,  their 
painting,  and  their  hieroglyphic  writing,  of  Eygpt.  Their 
calendar  testified,  in  spite  of  its  peculiar  character,  to  astro- 
nomical knowledge  which  corresponded  to  that  of  contempo- 
rary Europeans.  Although  their  religion  was  sanguinary,  it 


Social  Resemblances  and  Imitation          39 

resembled  Christianity  in  some  of  its  rites,  particularly  in 
those  of  baptism  and  confession.  In  certain  instances  the 
coincidences  of  detail  are  so  astonishing  that  they  have  led 
some  people  to  believe  that  Old- World  arts  and  institutions 
were  brought  over  directly  by  shipwrecked  Europeans.1 
But  in  these  comparisons  and  in  an  infinite  number  of 
others  of  the  same  kind,  is  it  not  nearer  the  truth  to  recog- 
nise the  fundamental  unity  of  human  nature  on  the  one 
hand  and  the  uniformity  of  external  nature  on  the  other? 
In  human  nature,  those  organic  wants  whose  satisfaction  is 
the  end  of  all  social  evolution  are  everywhere  the  same;  all 
human  beings  have  the  same  senses  and  the  same  brain  struc- 
ture. In  external  nature,  about  the  same  resources  are  offered 
for  the  satisfaction  of  about  the  same  wants,  and  approxi- 
mately the  same  spectacles  to  approximately  the  same  eyes, 
consequently  the  world's  industries,  arts,  perceptions,  myths, 
and  theories  must  be  all  pretty  much  alike.  These  resem- 
blances, like  those  referred  to  above,  would  be  instances  of 
the  general  principle  that  all  likeness  is  born  of  repetition. 
But,  although  they  are  themselves  social,  they  are  caused  by 
repetitions  of  a  biological  or  physical  order,  by  the  hereditary 
transmission  of  the  human  functions  and  organs  which  con- 
stitute the  human  races,  and  by  the  vibratory  transmission 
of  the  temperatures,  colours,  sounds,  electrical  currents,  and 
chemical  affinities  which  constitute  the  climes  and  soils  in- 
habited and  cultivated  by  man. 

Here  we  have  the  objection  or  the  exception  in  its  full 

1  In  fact,  there  are  many  striking  points  of  comparison.  Civilisation 
in  America,  as  in  Europe,  has  passed  successively  "  from  the  age  of 
stone  to  the  age  of  bronze  by  the  same  methods  and  under  the  same 
forms.  The  teocalli  of  Mexico  correspond  to  the  pyramids  of  Egypt; 
the  mounds  of  North  America  may  be  compared  to  the  tumuli  of 
Brittany  and  Scythia;  the  pylones  of  Peru  reproduce  those  of  Etruria 
and  Egypt"  (Clemence  Royer,  Revue  scientifique,  July  31,  1886).  It  is 
a  still  more  surprising  fact  that  the  only  affinities  of  the  Basque 
tongue  seem  to  be  with  certain  of  the  American  languages.  The  bearing 
of  these  resemblances  is  weakened  by  the  fact  that  the  points  of  com- 
parison are  not  drawn  from  two  given  civilisations,  but,  more  artificially, 
from  a  large  number  of  different  civilisations  in  both  the  Old  World  and 
the  New. 


40  Laws  of  Imitation 

force.  In  spite  of  its  apparent  gravity,  it. merely  offers  an  op- 
portunity of  copying  in  sociology  a  distinction  that  is  usual 
in  comparative  anatomy  between  analogies  and  homologies. 
Now,  resemblances  such  as  that  between  the  insect's  elytra 
and  the  bird's  wings  seem  superficial  and  meaningless  to 
the  naturalist.  They  may  be  very  striking,  but  he  pays  no 
attention  to  them.1  He  almost  denies  their  existence. 
Whereas  he  attaches  the  highest  value  to  resemblances 
between  the  wing  of  the  bird,  the  limb  of  the  reptile,  and 
the  fin  of  the  fish.  From  his  point  of  view  these  are  close 
and  deep-seated  resemblances,  quite  different  from  the 
former  kind.  If  this  form  of  discrimination  is  legitimate 
for  the  naturalist,  I  do  not  see  why  the  sociologist  should 
be  refused  the  right  of  treating  the  functional  analogies  of 
different  languages,  religions,  governments,  and  civilisa- 
tions with  equal  contempt,  and  their  anatomical  homologies 
with  equal  respect.  Philologists  and  mythologists  are  al- 
ready filled  with  this  spirit.  To  the  philologist  there  is  no 
significance  in  the  fact  that  the  word  for  deity  in  Aztec  is 
teotl,  and  in  Greek,  theos.  In  this  he  sees  nothing  but  a 
coincidence;  consequently  he  does  not  assert  that  teotl  and 
theos  are  the  same  word.  On  the  other  hand,  he  does  un- 
dertake to  prove  that  bischop  is  the  same  word  as  episco- 
pus.z  The  reason  of  this  is  that  no  linguistic  element 
should  ever  be  detached  at  any  instant  in  its  evolution  from 
all  its  anterior  transformations  nor  considered  apart  from 
the  other  elements  which  it  reflects  and  which  reflect  it. 
Accordingly,  any  likeness  that  may  be  proved  to  exist  be- 
tween the  isolated  phases  of  two  vocables  which  have  been 
taken  from  their  own  language  families  and  so  separated 

1  The  phenomenon  of  mimicry  receives  more  attention.    Hitherto  this 
enigma  has  been  undecipherable ;  but  if  the  key  to  it  were  really  given 
by  natural   selection,   it  might  be  explained  by  the  ordinary  laws  of 
heredity,  by  the  hereditary  fixation  and  accumulation  of  the  individual 
variations  most  favourable  to  the  welfare  of  the  species  which,  in  this 
way,  comes  to  take  on  the  lineaments  of  another  as  a  disguise. 

2  The  coincidence  is  the  more  singular,  too,  because  the  tl  in  teotl 
may  be  ignored,   since  this  combination  of  consonants  is  the  regular 
termination  of  Mexican  words.    Teo  and  theo  (in  the  dative)  have  ab- 
solutely the  same  sense  and  the  same  sound. 


Social  Resemblances  and  Imitation         41 

from  all  that  which  goes  to  make  up  their  real  life  is  only 
a  factitious  connection  between  two  abstractions  and  not  a 
true  link  between  two  real  things.  This  consideration  may 
be  generalised.1 

But  this  answer,  which  is  nothing  more  than  the  denial 
of  troublesome  resemblances,  is  inadequate.  On  the  con- 
trary, I  hold  that  there  certainly  are  many  real  and  impor- 
tant resemblances  which  have  been  spontaneously  produced 
between  civilisations  without  any  known  or  probable  means 
of  intercommunication.  Moreover,  I  admit  that,  in  gene- 
ral, when  the  current  of  human  genius  has  once  set  towards 
inventions  and  discoveries,  it  finds  itself  confined  by  a  sum 
of  subjective  and  objective  conditions,  like  a  river  by  its 
banks,  between  narrow  limits  of  development.  Accord- 

1  Although  customs  of  mutilation,  circumcision,  for  example,  tattoo- 
ing, or  cutting  the  hair,  in  sign  of  religious  or  political  subordination, 
are  found  in  the  most  distant  parts  of  the  globe,  in  America  and  in 
Polynesia,  as  well  as  in  the  Old  World ;  although  the  totems  of  the 
South  American  savages  remind  us,  if  only  a  little,  of  the  coats  of  arms 
of  our  mediaeval  knights,  etc. ;  these  coincidences  and  resemblances 
merely  prove  that  actions  are  governed  by  beliefs,  and  that  beliefs  are 
largely  suggested  to  man  through  the  phenomena  of  external  nature 
and  through  the  innate  tendencies  of  his  own  nature.  The  depths  of 
human  nature  are  the  same  everywhere,  and  in  the  phenomena  of 
external  nature  there  is,  in  spite  of  climatic  variation,  more  similarity 
than  dissimilarity.  I  admit  that  such  analogies  may  not  be  caused 
by  imitation.  But  they  are  at  any  rate  only  gross  and  indefinite. 
They  are  without  sociological  significance,  just  as  the  fact  that  insects 
are  possessed  of  limbs,  like  vertebrates,  and  of  eyes  and  wings,  like 
birds,  is  insignificant  from  a  biological  point  of  view.  On  the  other 
hand,  although  the  bird's  wing  looks  very  different  from  the  wing  of 
the  bat,  they  are  really  part  of  the  same  evolution  and  are  possessed 
of  the  same  past  and  of  the  possibility  of  experiencing  the  same  future. 
In  their  successive  transformations,  these  organs  correspond  in  an 
endless  number  of  particulars.  They  are  homologous.  Whereas,  the 
bird's  wing  never  has  anything  in  common  with  the  wing  of  the  insect, 
except  during  one  phase  of  their  very  unlike  developments. 

Did  the  same  ceremonies  and  the  same  religious  meaning  attach  to 
circumcision  among  the  Aztecs  as  among  the  Hebrews?  On  the  con- 
trary, there  was  as  much  difference  between  them  as  between  the 
Aztec  rite  of  confession  and  ours.  And  yet  this  matter  of  ceremonies 
is  the  important  thing  from  the  social  point  of  view;  for  it  is  the 
special  part  of  the  social  environment  which  is  directed  by  individual 
activity.  Besides,  this  part  is  constantly  on  the  increase. 


42  Laws  of  Imitation 

ingly,  even  in  distant  regions  there  may  be  a  certain  approx- 
imate similarity  between  its  channels.  It  may  even  chance 
to  show,  less  often,  however,  than  we  might  suppose,  a  par- 
allelism of  certain  pregnant  ideas,1  of  ideas  which  may  be 
yery  simple  or,  at  times,  quite  complicated,  which  have  ap- 
peared independently  and  which  are  equivalent  to,  if  not 
identical  with,  one  another.2  But,  in  the  first  place,  in  as 
much  as  men  have  been  forced  by  the  uniformity  of  their 
organic  wants  to  follow  the  same  trend  of  ideas,  we  have  a 
fact  that  belongs  to  the  biological,  and  not  to  the  social, 
order  of  resemblances.  Consequently  the  biological  and 
not  the  social  principle  of  repetition  is  applicable.  Paral- 
lelly  when  conditions  of  light  and  sound,  identical  to  all 
intents  and  purposes,  force  animals  belonging  to  different 
families  to  develop  organs  of  sight  and  hearing  which  are 
not  without  some  points  of  resemblance,  the  likeness,  in  this 
respect,  is  physical, not  biological;  it  depends  upon  vibration, 
and  therefore  comes  under  the  principle  of  physical  repeti- 
tion. 

Finally,  how  and  why  did  human  genius  come  to  run 
its  course  at  all,  unless  by  virtue  of  certain  initial 
causes  which,  in  arousing  it  from  its  original  torpor,  also 
stirred  up,  one  by  one,  the  deep  potential  wants  of  the 
human  soul  ?  And  were  not  these  causes  certain  primordial 
and  capital  inventions  and  discoveries  which  began  to 
spread  through  imitation  and  which  inspired  their  imitators 
with  a  taste  for  invention  and  discovery?  The  first  crude 
conceptions  of  the  rudiments  of  language  and  religion  on 

1  They  are  all  the  more  apt  to  be  simple  ideas,  ideas  exacting,  but  a 
slight  effort  of  the  imagination.  This  is  true  of  some  of  the  strangest 
freaks  of  custom.  For  example,  in  reading  the  work  of  M.  Jametel  upon 
China,  I  was  surprised  to  see  an  account  of  the  custom  of  eructation 
practised  as  an  act  of  courtesy  at  the  close  of  a  meal.  Now,  according 
to  M.  Gamier  and  M.  Hugonnet  (La  Grece  nouvelle,  1889),  the  same 
ceremony  is  observed  by  modern  Greeks.  In  both  countries,  evidently, 
the  desire  to  give  ample  proof  of  repletion  had  suggested  this  ridiculous, 
although  natural,  custom. 

2  The  same  needs,  for  example,  both  in  the  Old  World  and  in  the 
New,  prompted  the  ideas  of  domesticating  the  ox  and  taming  the 
chamois  in  the  former,  and  in  the  latter,  of  taming  the  bison,  the  buffalo, 
and  the  llama.  (See  Bourdeau,  Conquete  du  monde  animal,  p.  212.) 


Social  Resemblances  and  Imitation          43 

the  part  of  some  ape-man  (I  will  speculate  later  on  upon 
how  this  was  done)  carried  man  over  the  threshold  from 
the  animal  to  the  social  world.  This  difficult  step  must 
have  been  an  unique  event ;  without  it,  our  richly  developed 
world  would  have  been  chained  to  the  limbo  of  unrealised 
possibilities.  Without  this  spark,  the  flame  of  progress 
would  never  have  been  kindled  in  the  primaeval  forests  of 
savagery.  This  original  act  of  imagination  and  its  spread 
through  imitation  was  the  true  cause,  the  sine  qua 
non  of  progress.  The  immediate  acts  of  imitation  which  it 
prompted  were  not  its  sole  results.  It  suggested  other  acts 
of  imagination  which  in  turn  suggested  new  acts  and  so 
on  without  end. 

Thus  everything  is  related  to  it.  Every  social  resem- 
blance precedes  from  that  initial  act  of  imitation  of  which  it 
was  the  subject.  I  think  I  may  compare  it  to  that  no  less 
extraordinary  event  which  occurred  on  the  globe,  many 
thousands  of  centuries  in  advance,  when,  for  the  first  time, 
a  tiny  mass  of  protoplasm  originated  in  some  unknown  way 
and  began  to  multiply  by  fission.  Every  resemblance  be- 
tween existing  forms  of  life  is  the  outcome  of  this  first 
repetition  in  heredity.  For  it  would  be  futile  to  conjecture, 
purely  gratuitously,  that  protoplasm,  or  language,  or  myth- 
ology originated  at  more  than  one  centre  of  creation.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  granted  the  hypothesis  of  polygenism,  we 
could  not  deny  that,  after  a  more  or  less  prolonged  struggle 
and  competition,  the  best  and  most  prolific  of  the  different 
spontaneous  specimens  must  have  triumphed  alone  in  the 
extermination  or  assimilation  of  its  rivals. 

There  are  two  facts  which  we  should  not  overlook :  first, 
that  the  desire  to  invent  and  discover  grows,  like  any  other 
desire,  with  its  satisfaction;  second,  that  every  invention 
resolves  itself  into  the  timely  intersection  in  one  mind  of 
a  current  of  imitation  with  another  current  which  re- 
enforces  it,  or  with  an  intense  perception  of  some  objective 
fact  which  throws  new  light  on  some  old  idea,  or  with  the 
lively  experience  of  a  need  that  finds  unhoped-for  resources 
in  some  familiar  practice.  But  if  we  analyse  the  feelings. 


44  Laws  of  Imitation 

and  perceptions  in  question,  we  shall  find  that  they  them- 
selves may  be  resolved  almost  entirely,  and  more  and  more 
completely  as  civilisation  advances,  into  psychological  ele- 
ments formed  under  the  influence  of  example.  Every 
natural  phenomenon  is  seen  through  the  prisms  and  coloured 
glasses  of  a  mother  tongue,  or  national  religion,  or  ruling 
prejudice,  or  scientific  theory,  from  which  the  most  unbiassed 
and  unimpassioned  observation  cannot  emancipate  itself 
without  self-destruction.  Moreover,  every  organic  want  is 
experienced  in  the  characteristic  form  which  has  been  sanc- 
tioned by  surrounding  example.  The  social  environment, 
in  defining  and  actualising  this  form,  has,  in  truth,  appro- 
priated it.  Even  desires  for  nutrition  and  reproduction 
have  been  transformed,  so  to  speak,  into  national  products. 
Sexual  desire  is  changed  into  a  desire  to  be  married  accord- 
ing to  the  different  religious  rites  of  different  localities. 
Desire  for  food  is  expressed  in  one  place  as  a  desire  for  a 
certain  kind  of  bread  or  meat,  in  another,  for  a  certain  kind 
of  grain  or  vegetable.  This  is  all  the  more  true  of  the  nat- 
ural desire  for  amusement.  It  expresses  itself  as  desire  for 
circus  sports,  for  bull-fights,  for  classical  tragedies,  for  nat- 
uralistic novels,  for  chess,  for  piquet,  for  whist.  From  this 
point  of  view  several  lines  of  imitation  intersected  one 
another  in  the  brilliant  eighteenth-century  idea  of  ap- 
plying the  steam-engine,  which  had  already  been  em- 
ployed in  factories,  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  desire  for  ocean 
travel — a  desire  which  had  originated  through  the  spread 
of  many  antecedent  naval  inventions.  The  subsequent  ad- 
aptation of  the  screw  to  the  steamboat,  both  of  which  had 
been  known  of  separately  for  a  long  time,  was  a  similar 
idea.  When  Harvey  had  optical  proof  of  the  valves  of  the 
veins,  and  when  this  combined  in  his  mind  with  his  exist- 
ing anatomical  knowledge,  he  discovered  the  circulation  of 
the  blood.  This  discovery  was  hardly  anything  more,  on 
the  whole,  than  the  encounter  of  traditional  truths  with 
others  (namely,  with  the  methods  and  practices  which 
Harvey  had  long  followed  docilely  as  a  disciple,  and  which 
alone  enabled  him  to  finally  advance  his  master  proposi- 


Social  Resemblances  and  Imitation          45 

tion).  The  development  of  a  new  theorem  in  the  mind 
of  a  geometrician  through  the  combination  of  two  old 
theorems  is  pretty  nearly  analogous. 

Since,  then,  all  inventions  and  discoveries  are  composed 
of  prior  imitations;  excepting  certain  extraneous  accretions, 
of  themselves  unfruitful,  and  since  these  composites 
are  themselves  imitated  and  are  destined  to  become,  in  turn, 
elements  of  still  more  complex  combinations,  it  follows  that 
there  is  a  genealogical  tree  of  such  successful  initiatives 
and  that  they  appear  in  an  irreversible,  although  other- 
wise indeterminate,  sequence,  suggestive  of  the  pange- 
netic  theory  of  the  old  philosophers.  Every  successful  in- 
vention actualises  one  of  the  thousand  possible,  or  rather, 
given  certain  conditions,  necessary,  inventions,  which  are 
carried  in  the  womb  of  its  parent  invention,  and  by  its  ap- 
pearance it  annihilates  the  majority  of  those  possibilities 
and  makes  possible  a  host  of  heretofore  impossible  inven- 
tions. These  latter  inventions  will  or  will  not  come  into 
existence  according  to  the  extent  and  direction*  of  the  radia- 
tion of  its  imitation  through  communities  which  are 
already  illuminated  by  other  lights.  To  be  sure,  only  the 
most  useful,  if  you  please,  of  the  future  inventions — and 
by  most  useful  I  mean  those  which  best  answer  the  problems 
of  the  time — will  survive,  for  every  invention,  like  every  dis- 
covery, is  an  answer  to  a  problem.  But  aside  from  the  fact 
that  these  problems,1  inasmuch  as  they  are  themselves  the 
vague  expressions  of  certain  indefinite  wants,  are  capable  of 
manifold  solutions;  the  point  of  interest  is  to  know  how, 
why,  and  by  whom  they  have  been  raised ;  why  one  date  was 
chosen  rather  than  another,  and,  finally,  why  one  solution 
was  chosen  in  one  place,  and  another  in  another  place.2 

1  In  politics  they  are   called  questions:   the   Eastern   question,   the 
social  question,  etc. 

2  Sometimes  the  same  solution  is  adopted  almost  everywhere,  although 
the  problem  may  have  lent  itself  to  other  solutions.     That  is,  you  may 
say,  because  the  choice  in  question  is  the  most  natural  one.     True,  but 
is  not  this  the  very  reason,  perhaps,  why,  although  it  was  disclosed  only 
in  one  place,  and  not  everywhere  at  the  same  time,  it  ended  by  spreading 
in  all  directions?     For  example,  almost  all  primitive  peoples  think  of 
the  future  abode  of  the  wicked  as  subterranean  and  of  that  of  the  good 


46  Laws  of  Imitation 

All  this  depends  upon  individual  initiatives,  upon  the  nature 
of  the  scholars  and  inventors  of  the  past.  From  the  earliest 
of  these,  the  greatest,  perhaps,  our  avalanche  of  progress 
has  rolled  down  out  of  the  zenith  of  history. 

It  is  difficult  for  us  to  imagine  how  necessary  genius  and 
exceptional  circumstances  were  for  the  development  of  the 
simplest  ideas.  To  tame  and  make  use  of  harmless  in- 
digenous animals,  instead  of  merely  hunting  them,  would 
seem  at  first  to  be  the  most  natural,  as  well  as  the 
most  fruitful,  of  initiatives,  an  inevitable  initiative,  in 
fact.  Yet  we  know  that,  although  the  horse  originally  be- 
longed to  the  American  fauna,  it  had  disappeared  from 
America  when  that  continent  was  discovered,  and,  according 
to  Bourdeau,  its  disappearance  is  generally  explained  (Con- 
quete  du,  monde  animal)  on  the  ground  that  "  in  many 
places  (in  the  Old  World  as  well)  it  had  been  annihilated  by 
the  hunter  for  food,  before  the  herdsman  had  conceived  the 
idea  of  domesticating  it."  And  so  we  see  that  this  idea  was 
far  from  being  an  inevitable  one.  The  domestication  of  the 
horse  depended  upon  some  individual  accident.  It  had  to 
occur  in  some  one  place  whence  it  could  spread  through  imi- 
tation. But  what  is  true  of  this  quadruped  is  undoubtedly 
true  of  all  domestic  animals  and  of  all  cultivated  plants. 
Now,  can  we  imagine  humanity  without  these  prime  in- 
ventions ! 

In  general,  if  we  do  not  wish  to  explain  resemblances  be- 
tween communities  which  are  separated  by  more  or  less  in- 
surmountable obstacles  (although  these  may  not  have 
existed  in  the  past),  through  the  common  possession  of 
some  entirely  forgotten  primitive  model,  only  one  other  ex- 
planation, as  a  rule,  remains.  Each  community  must  have 
exhausted  all  the  inventions  which  were  possible  in  a  given 
line  save  the  one  adopted,  and  eliminated  all  its  other 

as  celestial.  The  similarity  of  such  conceptions  is  often  minute.  Ac- 
cording to  Tylor,  the  Salish  Indians  of  Oregon  believe  that  the  bad 
dwell  after  death  in  a  place  of  eternal  snow,  where  they  "  are  tantalised 
by  the  sight  of  game  which  they  cannot  kill,  and  water  which  they 
cannot  drink"  [Primitive  Culture,  II,  84,  Edward  B.  Tylor,  London, 
1871.— Tr.] 


Social  Resemblances  and  Imitation          47 

useless  or  less  useful  ideas.  But  the  comparative  barren- 
ness of  imagination  which  characterises  primitive  people  is 
opposed  to  this  hypothesis.  We  should  then  accept  the 
former  hypothesis  and  refuse  to  renounce  it  without  good 
reason.  Is  it  certain,  for  example,  that  the  idea  of  building 
lake  dwellings  came  to  the  ancient  inhabitants  of  both 
Switzerland  and  New  Guinea  without  any  suggestion  of 
imitation  ?  The  same  question  arises  in  relation  to  the  cut- 
ting and  polishing  of  flints,  to  the  use  of  tendons  and  fish- 
bones for  sewing,  or  to  the  rubbing  together  of  two  pieces 
of  wood  for  fire.  Before  we  deny  the  possibility  of  a  diffu- 
sion of  these  ideas  through  a  world-wide  process  of  gradual 
and  prolonged  imitation,  the  immense  duration  of  prehis- 
toric times  must  be  brought  to  mind,  and  we  must  not 
overlook  the  evidence  of  the  existence  of  relations  be- 
tween very  distant  peoples  not  only  in  the  age  of  bronze, 
when  tin  was  sometimes  brought  from  a  great  distance,  but 
also  in  the  smooth  stone  and  perhaps  even  in  the  rough 
stone  age.  The  great  invasions  which  have  raged  at  all 
periods  of  history  must  have  aided  and  often  universalised 
the  spread  of  civilising  ideas.  Even  in  prehistoric  "times 
this  was  true.  Indeed  it  must  have  been  especially  true  in 
those  times,  for  the  ease  with  which  great  conquests  are 
effected  depends  upon  the  primitive  and  disintegrated 
nature  of  the  people  to  be  conquered.  The  irruption  of  the 
Mongols  in  the  thirteenth  century  is  a  good  instance  of  these 
periodic  deluges,  and  we  know  that  it  broke  down,  in  the 
full  tide  of  medievalism,  the  closest  of  race  barriers  and 
put  China  and  Hindustan  into  communication  with  each 
other  and  with  Europe.1 

1  In  a  very  interesting  article  in  the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  of 
May  i,  1890,  M.  Goblet  d'Alviella  aptly  comments  upon  the  rapidity  and 
facility  of  the  circulation  of  religious  symbols  by  means  of  travellers, 
of  slavery,  and  of  currency,  the  latter  of  which  is  a  veritable  system 
of  moving  bas-reliefs.  This  is  true  also  of  political  symbols.  The 
two-headed  eagle,  for  example,  on  the  arms  of  both  the  Emperor  of 
Austria  and  the  Czar  of  Russia  has  come  down  to  them  from  the 
ancient  Germanic  empire.  It  was  brought  there  through  the  Eastern 
expedition  of  Frederick  the  Second  in  the  thirteenth  century,  when  he 
borrowed  it  from  the  Turks.  Furthermore,  M.  Goblet  d'Alviella  says 


48  Laws  of  Imitation 

Even  in  default  of  such  violent  events,  a  world-wide  in- 
terchange of  examples  could  not  have  failed  to  take  place 
eventually.  At  this  point,  let  me  make  the  following  general 
remark:  The  majority  of  historians  are  not  inclined  to 
admit  the  influence  of  one  civilisation  upon  another  unless 
they  can  prove  the  existence  of  some  intercommercial  or 
military  relations.  They  think,  implicitly,  that  the  action 
of  one  nation  upon  another  at  a  distance,  of  Egypt  upon 
Mesopotamia,  for  example,  or  of  China  upon  the  Roman 
Empire,  presupposes  the  transportation  of  troops  or  the 
sending  of  ships  or  caravans  from  one  to  the  other.  They 
would  not  admit,  for  example,  that  currents  of  Babylonian 
and  Egyptian  civilisation  may  have  intermingled  before  the 
conquest  of  Mesopotamia  by  Egypt  in  the  sixteenth  century 
before  our  era.  Oppositely,  in  virtue  of  the  same  point  of 
view,  as  soon  as  a  similarity  of  works  of  art,  of  monuments, 
of  tombs,  of  mortuary  relics,  proves  to  them  the  action  of 
one  civilisation  upon  another,  they  at  once  conclude  that 
wars  or  regular  transactions  of  some  kind  must  have 
occurred  between  them. 

In  view  of  the  relations  which  I  have  established  between 
the  three  forms  of  universal  repetition,  the  above  precon- 
ception suggests  the  error  of  the  old-time  physicists,  who 
saw  in  every  physical  action  between  two  distant  bodies,  like 
the  imparting  of  heat  or  light,  the  proof  of  a  transmission 
of  matter.  Did  not  Newton  himself  think  that  the  diffu- 
sion of  solar  light  was  produced  by  the  emission  of  particles 
projected  by  the  sun  through  boundless  space?  There  is 
as  much  difference  between  my  point  of  view  and  the  ordi- 
nary one  as  there  is  in  optics  between  the  vibratory  theory 
and  the  theory  of  emission.  Of  course  I  do  not  deny  that 

that  there  are  reasons  for  thinking  that  the  astonishing  likeness  between 
this  two-headed  eagle  and  the  eagle  which  is  also  two-headed  and  which 
figures  upon  the  most  ancient  bas-reliefs  of  Mesopotamia,  is  due  to  a 
series  of  imitations.  Note  in  this  same  article  the  reference  to  the 
widespread  imitation  of  the  Gamma  cross  as  a  luck  piece.  It  is  prob- 
able, on  the  other  hand,  that  the  idea  of  using  the  cross  to  symbolise 
the  god  of  the  air  or  the  compass-card  arose  spontaneously  and  not 
through  imitation  in  Mesopotamia  and  in  the  Aztec  empire. 


Social  Resemblances  and  Imitation         49 

social  action  is  effected,  or  rather  aroused,  by  the  movements 
of  armies  or  merchant  vessels;  but  I  challenge  the  view  that 
such  movements  are  the  sole  or  even  the  principal  mode 
through  which  the  contagion  of  civilisation  takes  place. 
Men  of  different  civilisations  come  into  mutual  contact  on 
their  respective  frontiers,  where,  independently  of  war  or 
trade,  they  are  naturally  inclined  to  imitate  one  another. 
And  so,  without  its  being  necessary  for  them  to  displace  one 
another  in  the  sense  of  checking  the  spread  of  one  another's 
examples,  they  continually  and  over  unlimited  distances 
react  upon  one  another,  just  as  the  molecules  of  the  sea 
drive  forward  its  waves  without  displacing  one  another  in 
their  direction.  Consequently,  long  before  the  arrival  of 
Pharaoh's  army  in  Babylon,  sundry  external  observances 
and  industrial  secrets  had  passed  from  hand  to  hand,  in 
some  way  or  other,  from  Egypt  to  Babylon. 

Here  we  have  the  first  principle  of  history.  Let  us  note 
closely  the  continuity,  the  power  and  the  irresistibility  of 
its  action.  Given  the  necessary  time,  it  will  inevitably 
reach  out  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  Now,  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  man's  past  is  to  be  reckoned  in  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  years,  there  is  ample  reason  to  think  that  it  must  have 
spread  through  the  entire  universe  before  the  nearby  his- 
toric ages  which  we  call  antiquity,  began. 

Moreover,  it  is  not  necessary  that  the  thing  which  is 
propagated  should  be  beautiful  or  useful  or  rational.  In 
the  Middle  Ages,  for  example,  a  grotesque  custom  existed 
in  many  different  places  of  parading,  seated  backwards  upon 
an  ass,  husbands  who  had  been  beaten  by  their  wives. 
Obviously  such  an  absurd  idea  could  not  have  arisen  spon- 
taneously at  the  same  time  in  different  brains.  Was  it  not 
due  to  imitation?  And  yet  M.  Baudrillart  is  led  by  current 
prejudice  to  believe  that  popular  festivals  originated  of 
themselves  without  any  conscious  or  deliberate  individual 
initiative.  "  The  festivals  of  Tarasque  at  Tarascon,  of 
Graouilli  at  Metz,  of  Loup  vert  at  Jumieges,  of  Gargouille 
at  Rouen,  and  many  others,  he  says,  were  never  established, 
in  all  probability,  by  a  formal  decree  [I  admit  this]  or 


50  Laws  of  Imitation 

by  premeditated  desire  [the  error  is  here] ;  they  were  made 
periodic  by  unanimous  and  spontaneous  agreement.  .  .  ." 
Imagine  thousands  of  people  simultaneously  conceiving  and 
spontaneously  carrying  out  such  extraordinary  things ! 

To  sum  up,  everything  which  is  social  and  non-vital  or 
non-physical  in  the  phenomena  of  societies  is  caused  by  im- 
itation. This  is  true  of  both  social  similarities  and  dissimi- 
larities. And  so,  the  epithet  natural  is  generally  and  not  im- 
properly bestowed  upon  the  spontaneous  and  non-suggested 
resemblances  which  arise  between  different  societies  in 
every  order  of  social  facts.  If  we  like  to  look  at  societies  on 
the  side  of  their  spontaneous  resemblances,  we  have  the 
right  to  call  this  aspect  of  their  laws,  cults,  governments, 
customs  and  crimes,  natural  law,  natural  religion,  natural 
governments,  natural  industry,  natural  art  (I  do  not 
mean  naturalistic  art),  natural  crime.  Now,  such  sponta- 
neous resemblances  have,  of  course,  some  significance. 
But,  unfortunately,  we  waste  our  time  in  trying  to  get  at 
their  exact  meaning,  and  because  of  their  irremediable 
vagueness  and  arbitrariness  of  character,  they  must  end 
by  repelling  the  positive  and  scientifically  trained  mind. 

I  may  be  reminded  of  the  fact  that  although  imitation 
is  a  social  thing,  the  tendency  to  imitate  in  order  to  avoid 
the  trouble  of  inventing,  a  tendency  which  is  born  of  in- 
stinctive indolence,  is  an  absolutely  natural  thing.  But  al- 
though this  tendency  may,  of  necessity,  precede  the  first 
social  act,  the  act  whereby  it  is  satisfied,  yet  its  own  strength 
and  direction  varies  very  much  according  to  the  nature  of 
existing  habits  of  imitation.  It  may  still  be  argued  that 
this  tendency  is  only  one  form  of  a  desire  which  I  myself 
hold  to  be  innate  and  deep-seated  and  from  which  I  deduce, 
later  on,  all  the  laws  of  social  reason,  namely,  desire  for  a 
maximum  of  strong  and  stable  belief.  If  these  laws  exist, 
the  resemblances  which  they  produce  in  people's  ideas  and 
institutions  have,  in  as  much  as  there  can  be  nothing  social 
in  their  origin,  a  natural  and  non-social  cause.  For 
example,  the  savages  of  America,  Africa,  and  Asia  all  ex- 
plain sickness  on  the  ground  of  diabolical  possession,  the 


Social  Resemblances  and  Imitation          51 

entrance  of  evil  spirits  into  the  body  of  the  diseased — this, 
in  itself,  is  quite  a  singular  coincidence;  then  when  they 
have  once  adopted  this  explanation  they  all  conceive  of  the 
idea  of  curing  through  exorcism  as  a  logical  outcome.  In 
reply,  I  say  that  although  it  cannot  be  denied  that  there  is 
a  certain  logical  orientation  on  the  part  of  the  presocial 
man,  the  desire  for  logical  co-ordination  has  been  enhanced 
and  directed  by  the  influences  of  the  social  environment, 
where  it  is  subject  to  the  widest  and  strangest  fluctuations} 
and  where,  like  every  other  desire,  it  waxes  strong  and  defi- 
nite according  to  the  measure  of  satisfaction  which  it  re- 
ceives. We  shall  see  the  proof  of  this  at  another  time. 

2.  This  leads  me  to  examine  another  leading  objec- 
tion which  may  be  raised  against  me.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
I  have  gained  little  in  proving  that  all  civilisations,  even 
the  most  divergent,  are  rays  from  a  single  primordial 
centre,  if  there  are  reasons  for  thinking  that,  after  a  certain 
point,  the  distance  between  them  begins  to  diminish  rather 
than  increase,  and  that,  whatever  may  have  been  the  point 
of  departure,  the  evolution  of  languages,  myths,  crafts, 
laws,  sciences,  and  arts  has  been  drawing  nearer  and  nearer 
to  a  beaten  track,  so  that  their  goal  must  always  have  been 
the  same,  predetermined  and  inevitable. 

It  is  for  us  to  ascertain  if  this  hypothesis  be  true.  It 
is  not  true.  Let  me  first  point  out  the  extravagant  conse- 
quence that  it  involves.  It  implies  that,  given  sufficient  time, 
the  scientific  spirit  must  lead,  no  matter  what  its  path  of 
speculation  may  be,  to  the  infinitesimal  calculus  in  mathe- 
matics, to  the  law  of  gravitation  in  astronomy,  to  the  union 
of  forces  in  physics,  to  atomism  in  chemistry,  and  in  bi- 
ology to  natural  selection  or  to  some  other  ulterior  form 
of  evolution.  Moreover,  since  the  industrial  and  the  mili- 
tary and  the  artistic  imagination  must  have  depended  upon 
this  would-be  unique  and  inevitable  science  in  their  search 
for  the  means  of  satisfying  virtually  innate  wants,  it  follows 
that  the  invention  of  the  locomotive  and  the  electric  tele- 
graph, for  example,  of  torpedoes  and  Krupp  guns,  of 
Wagnerian  opera  and  naturalistic  novels,  was  a  necessary 


52  Laws  of  Imitation 

thing,  more  necessary,  perhaps,  than  the  simplest  expres- 
sion of  the  art  of  pottery.  Now,  unless  I  am  much  mis- 
taken, one  might  as  well  say  that  from  its  very  beginnings 
and  throughout  all  its  metamorphoses,  life  tended  to  give 
birth  to  certain  predetermined  forms  of  existence  and  that 
the  duck-bill,  for  example,  or  the  lizard  or  ophrys  or  cactus 
or  man  himself  was  a  necessary  occurrence.  Would  it  not 
be  more  plausible  to  admit  that  the  ever  fresh  problem  of 
life  was  of  itself  undertermined  and  susceptible  of  multiple 
solutions  ? 

The  illusion  which  I  am  opposing  owes  its  verisimili- 
tude to  a  kind  of  quid  pro  quo.  The  progress  of  civilisation 
is  unquestionably  manifest  in  the  gradual  equalisation 
that  is  being  established  throughout  an  ever  vaster  territory. 
This  process  is  so  thorough  that  some  day,  perhaps,  a 
single  stable  and  definite  social  type  will  cover  the  entire 
surface  of  a  globe1  that  was  formerly  divided  up  among  a 
thousand  different  unrelated  or  rival  types.  But  does  the 
work  of  universal  equalisation  in  which  we  are  taking  part 
reveal  the  slightest  common  movement  on  the  part  of  differ- 
ent societies  towards  the  same  pole  ?  Not  in  the  least,  since 
the  equalisation  is  plainly  due  to  the  submersion  of  the 
greater  number  of  our  original  civilisations  by  the  over- 
flow of  one  whose  waters  are  advancing  in  continually 
enlarging  circles  of  imitation.  To  see  how  far  independent 
civilisations  are  from  tending  to  merge  together  spon- 
taneously, let  us  compare  in  their  stages  of  final  develop- 
ment the  Byzantine  Empire  of  the  Middle  Ages,  for 
example,  with  the  Chinese  Empire  of  the  same  epoch.  Both 
civilisations  had  long  since  put  forth  all  their  fruit  and 
reached  their  extreme  limits  of  growth.  The  question 
at  issue  is  whether  in  this  final  state  of  consummation 
they  resembled  each  other  more  than  they  did  at  any  previous 

1  In  the  long  run,  however,  as  we  shall  see  later  on,  the  exclusive 
imitation  of  custom  will  have  to  prevail  over  the  proselyting  imitation 
of  fashion.  As  a  result  of  this  law,  the  disintegration  of  mankind  into 
distinct  states  and  civilisations  may  very  possibly  be  the  final  stage 
of  society.  Only,  these  civilisations  will  be  less  in  number  and  greater 
in  scale  than  those  of  past  or  present  times. 


Social  Resemblances  and  Imitation          53 

time.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  very  opposite  is  much  more 
true.  Compare  Saint  Sophia  with  its  mosaics  to  a  pagoda 
with  its  porcelains,  the  mystic  miniatures  of  Byzantine 
manuscripts  to  the  flat  paintings  of  Chinese  vases,  the  life 
of  a  mandarin  occupied  with  literary  frivolities  and  setting 
but  an  intermittent  example  of  labour  to  that  of  a  Byzantine 
bishop,  devoted  to  the  mingled  ruses  and  subtleties  of  di- 
plomacy and  theology,  etc.  The  contrast  is  complete  be- 
tween the  ideal  of  exquisite  landscape  gardening,  of  swarm- 
ing families,  and  of  lowered  morality  that  is  dear  to  one  of 
these  peoples,  and  the  ideal  of  Christian  salvation,  of  mon- 
astic celibacy  and  of  ascetic  perfection  which  fascinates  the 
other.  It  is  difficult  to  class  under  the  same  term  of  religion 
the  ancestor-worship  which  is  the  basis  of  the  one,  and  the 
worship  of  divine  personages  or  of  saints  which  is  the  soul 
of  the  other.  But  if  I  go  back  to  the  most  ancient  ages  of 
those  Greeks  and  Romans  whose  twofold  culture  was 
amalgamated  and  completed  in  the  Lower  Empire,  I  shall 
find  a  family  organisation  which  would  seem  to  be  pat- 
terned after  that  of  China.  In  fact,  in  the  ancient  Aryan, 
and,  I  may  add,  Semitic,  family,  we  find,  as  in  the  Chinese 
family,  not  only  the  worship  of  ancestors  and  of  household 
gods,  we  also  find  the  same  contrivances  for  honouring  the 
dead,  namely,  food  offerings  and  the  singing  of  hymns  ac- 
companied by  genuflexion.  We  find,  too,  the  same  fictions, 
particularly  the  fiction  of  adoption  whose  purpose  is  to  ac- 
complish, in  spite  of  the  occasional  barrenness  of  wives, 
the  chief  end  in  view,  the  perpetuation  with  the  family  of 
the  family-cult. 

We  shall  have  the  counterproof  of  this  truth,  if,  instead 
of  comparing  two  original  peoples  at  two  successive  phases 
of  their  history,  we  compare  two  classes  or  two  social  levels 
in  each  of  them.  The  traveller,  to  be  sure,  will  observe 
that  there  is  greater  dissimilarity  in  many  European  coun- 
tries, even  in  the  most  backward,  between  the  common  peo- 
ple who  have  remained  faithful  to  their  ancient  customs 
than  between  persons  belonging  to  the  upper  classes.  But 
it  is  because  the  latter  have  been  the  first  to  be  touched  by 


54  Laws  of  Imitation 

the  rays  of  invading  fashion;  here  the  resemblance  is  ob- 
viously the  child  of  imitation.  On  the  other  hand,  when 
two  nations  have  remained  hermetically  shut  off  from  each 
other,  there  are  certainly  greater  differences  between  the 
ideas,  the  tastes,  and  the  habits  of  their  nobles  or  clergy  than 
between  those  of  their  farmers  or  mechanics. 

The  reason  of  this  is  that  the  more  civilised  a  nation  or 
class  becomes,  the  more  it  escapes  from  the  narrow  banks  in 
whose  thraldom  the  same  universal  corporeal  wants  have 
hemmed  its  development.  It  flows  out  into  the  freedom  of  the 
aesthetic  life,  where  its  ship  of  art  is  wafted  at  the  pleasure  of 
the  breezes  with  which  its  own  past  fills  its  sails.  If  civilisa- 
tion were  only  the  full  expansion  of  organic  life  by  means  of 
the  social  environment,  this  would  not  be  so;  but  it  seems  as 
if  life,  in  expanding  in  this  way,  sought  above  all  to  free 
itself  from  itself,  to  break  through  its  own  circle;  as  if  it 
bloomed  only  to  wither  away,  as  if  nothing  were  more  es- 
sential to  it  (this  is  the  case  with  all  reality,  perhaps), 'than 
to  rid  itself  of  its  very  essence.  Accordingly,  the  super- 
fluity, the  luxury,  the  thing  of  beauty,  I  mean  the  special 
thing  of  beauty  which  every  nation  and  every  age  makes  its 
own,  is,  in  every  society,  the  pre-eminently  social  thing; 
it  is  the  raison  d'etre  of  all  the  rest,  of  all  that  which  is  use- 
ful and  necessary.  Now  we  shall  see  that  the  exclusively 
imitative  origin  of  resemblances  becomes  more  and  more 
indisputable  as  one  passes  from  things  of  use  to  things  of 
beauty.  Artistic  habits  of  eye,  born  of  ancient  individual 
caprice  in  art,  become  super-organic  wants  which  the  artist 
is  obliged  to  satisfy,  and  which  singularly  limit  the  field 
of  his  fancy.  But  this  imitation,  which  has  nothing  vital 
in  it,  varies  as  much  as  possible  with  time  and  place.  Thus 
the  eye  of  the  Greek,  beginning  with  a  certain  epoch, 
needed  to  see  his  columns  in  keeping  with  the  Ionic  or  Co- 
rinthian order,  whereas  the  eye  of  the  Egyptian,  under  the 
Old  Empire,  exacted  a  square  pier,  and,  under  the  Middle 
Empire,  a  column  with  lotos-bulb  capital.  Here,  in  this 
sphere  of  pure  art,  or  rather  of  almost  pure  art,  for  archi- 
tecture will  always  be  an  industrial  art,  my  formula  relating 


Social  Resemblances  and  Imitation          55 

to  imitation  as  the  unique  cause  of  true  social  resemblances, 
applies  to  the  very  letter. 

It  would  apply  still  more  exactly  in  sculpture,  painting, 
music,  and  poetry.  In  fact,  the  aesthetic  ideas  and  judg- 
ments to  which  art  corresponds,  do  not  exist  before  it. 
They  have  nothing  in  them  that  is  fixed  and  uniform. 
They  differ  from  the  bodily  wants  and  sense-perceptions 
which  in  a  certain  measure  predetermine  works  of  in- 
dustry and  force  them  to  repeat  themselves  vaguely  among 
different  peoples.  When  a  product  belongs  both  to  in- 
dustry and  to  art,  we  must  expect  it  to  be  like  other 
products  from  foreign  and  independent  sources  in  its  in- 
dustrial characteristics  and  to  differ  from  them  on  its 
aesthetic  side.  In  general,  this  differential  element  seems 
of  slight  importance  to  the  practical  man.  Are  not  the 
monuments,  the  vases,  the  furniture,  and  the  hymns  and 
epics  of  different  civilisations  differentiated  from  each 
merely  in  detail?  But  detail,  the  characteristic  shade,  the 
turn  of  the  sentence,  the  peculiar  colouring,  all  this  is  style 
and  manner;  to  the  artist  it  is  more  important  than  any- 
thing else.  The  pointed  arch  of  one  place,  the  semi-circular 
of  another,  the  pediment  of  still  another,  is  both  the  most 
visible  and  most  significant  character  of  its  respective 
society.  It  is  the  master-form  which  controls,  instead  of 
being  controlled  by,  utilities,  and,  in  this  respect,  it  may 
well  be  likened  to  those  morphological  characteristics  which 
rule  over  functions  and  by  which  living  types  are  recog- 
nised. This  is  the  reason  why  we  can  deny  from  the 
aesthetic,  that  is,  from  the  most  purely  social,  point  of  view, 
that  any  real  likeness  exists  between  works  which  differ 
from  each  other  only  in  detail.  We  can  assert,  for  ex- 
ample, that  the  graceful  little  Egyptian  temple  at  Elephante 
is,  in  spite  of  its  appearance,  unlike  a  peripteral  Greek  temple. 
Consequently,  we  can  set  aside  the  question  of  ascertaining 
if  this  resemblance  is  not  a  proof  that,  as  Champollion 
thought,  Greece  copied  Egypt.  After  all,  this  amounts  to 
saying  that  the  formula  applies  the  more  exactly,  the  more 
it  is  a  question  of  like  products  satisfying  wants  which  are 
more  artificial  than  natural,  that  is,  which  belong  to  a  social 


56  Laws  of  Imitation 

rather  than  vital  order  of  things.  From  this  we  may  infer 
that  if  certain  products  ever  intersected  each  other,  products 
that  were  inspired  by  exclusively  social  motives,  and  that 
were  absolutely  disconnected  from  any  vital  functions,  this 
principle  would  be  verified  with  the  utmost  exactness. 

There  has  been  much  talk  among  artists  of  an  alleged  law 
of  development  which  would  subject  the  fine  arts  to  turn 
forever  in  the  same  circle  and  repeat  themselves  indefinitely. 
Unfortunately  no  one  has  ever  been  able  to  formulate  it  with 
any  precision  without  running  foul  of  the  facts.  This  ob- 
servation may  be  likewise  applied,  although  in  a  lesser  de- 
gree, as  we  should  expect  from  what  has  preceded,  to  the 
development  of  religions,  languages,  governments,  laws, 
morals,  and  sciences.  Although  M.  Perrot  shares  in  the 
aforesaid  current  prejudice,  yet  in  his  Histoire  de  I' art 
he  is  forced  to  admit  that  the  evolution  of  architectural 
orders  did  not  pass  through  analagous  phases  in  Egypt  and 
Greece.  When  the  most  ancient  stone  columns  of  both 
places  came  to  take  the  place  of  wooden  piers,  they  un- 
doubtedly began  by  more  or  less  faithfully  imitating  them 
and  they  retained  for  a  long  time  this  counterfeit  character; 
and  in  both  countries  the  native  plants,  the  acanthus  in 
Greece,  the  lotos  or  palm  in  Egypt,  were  reproduced  in  the 
ornamentation  of  the  capitals.  Again,  without  doubt,  the 
Greek  or  Egyptian  column,  massive  and  undivided  as  it 
was  in  the  beginning,  came  to  be  subdivided  into  three 
parts,  the  capital,  the  shaft,  and  the  base.  Finally,  the 
decoration  of  the  capital  in  Greece  and  of  the  entire  column 
in  Egypt  undoubtedly  went  on,  becoming  more  and  more 
complicated  and  surcharged  with  fresh  ornamentation. 

But  of  these  three  analogies,  the  first  is  only  another 
witness  to  our  first  principle,  the  instinctive  imitativeness  of 
social  man,  and  the  third  sets  off  for  us  a  necessary  corol- 
lary of  this  principle,  the  gradual  accumulation  of  non-con- 
tradictory inventions,  thanks  to  the  conservation  and  dif- 
fusion of  each  of  them  through  the  imitation  of  which  each 
is  the  centre  of  radiation.  As  for  the  second,  it  is  one  of 
those  functional  analogies  of  which  I  spoke  above.  In  fact, 
as  soon  as  the  need  of  shelter  came  to  require  dwellings  of 


Social  Resemblances  and  Imitation          57 

a  certain  elevation  for  its  satisfaction,  this  tripartite  divi- 
sion of  the  column  was  pretty  much  necessitated  by  the 
nature  of  the  materials  used  and  by  the  law  of  gravity. 
If  we  wish  to  get  at  the  truth  of  the  pseudo-law  of  re- 
ligious or  political  or  other  kinds  of  development  which  I 
have  just  been  criticising  in  passing,  we  shall  see  that  it 
may  be  resolved  into  resemblances  which  fall  within  the  three 
preceding  categories.  If  any  fails  to  fall  within  them,  it  is 
because  imitation  has  intervened.  For  example,  the  point 
of  similarity  between  Christianity  and  Buddhism,  but  es- 
pecially between  Christianity  and  the  worship  of  Krishna, 
are  so  multiple,  that  they  have  seemed  sufficient  to  some  of 
the  most  learned  authorities,  notably  to  Weber,  to  justify 
the  affirmation  that  an  historical  relationship  exists  between 
the  aforesaid  religions.  The  conjecture  is  the  less  astonish- 
ing because  it  is  about  proselyting  religions. 

Besides, — and  here  the  significant  divergences  will  stand 
out, — among  the  Greeks  the  proportion  of  the  supports  were 
always  modified  in  the  same  direction,  "  a  higher  and  higher 
fraction  expressed  the  ratio  between  the  height  of  the 
shaft  and  its  diameter.  The  Doric  of  the  Parthenon  is 
more  slender  than  that  of  the  old  temple  of  Corinth;  it  is 
less  so  than  the  Roman  Doric.  This  was  not  the  case  in 
Egypt,  its  forms  did  not  tend  to  grow  more  tapering  with 
the  lapse  of  the  centuries.  The  proportions  of  the  polyg- 
onal or  of  the  fascicular  column  of  Beni-Hassan  are  not 
more  thickset  than  those  of  the  columns  of  much  earlier 
monuments."  We  even  find  the  contrary  of  this,  the 
exact  inverse  of  Hellenic  evolution.  "  There  are  thus,"  con- 
cludes the  author  I  cite  from,  "  capricious  oscillations  in  the 
course  of  Egyptian  art.  It  is  less  regular  than  that  of 
classic  art;  it  does  not  seem  to  be  governed  by  an  equally 
severe  internal  logic."  2 

I  prefer  to  say  that  it  follows  from  this  that  art  is  un- 
willing to  be  shut  up  in  a  formula,  since,  at  times,  this 
formula,  if  formula  there  be,  seems  to  apply,  whereas  at 

1  [Histoirc  de  I'art,  I,  574,  Georges  Perrot  and  Charles  Chipiez,  Paris, 
1882.— TV.] 

2  [Ibid.,  II,  57S-— TV.] 


58  Laws  of  Imitation 

other  times  it  is  plain  that  it  does  not  apply  at  all,  and  pre- 
cisely in  that  which  to  the  eyes  of  those  who  know  con- 
cerns the  most  important,  the  most  expressive,  and  the  most 
profound  characteristics.  When  it  is  a  question  of  look- 
ing at  the  column  from  the  utilitarian  point  of  view,  ex- 
ternal conditions  narrowly  circumscribe  the  field  of  archi- 
tectural invention  and  impose  certain  fundamental  ideas 
upon  it  like  themes  for  variation.  But  when  once  the 
strait  was  crossed  along  which  all  schools  had  to  follow  in 
almost  parallel  courses,  the  schools  turned  in  different  direc- 
tions and  drifted  apart;  and  yet  they  were  not  more  free, 
only  each  obeyed  merely  the  inspirations  of  its  own  peculiar 
genius.  From  now  on,  there  is  an  end  to  coincidences,  and 
dissimilarities  are  deepened.1  The  individual  influence  of 
great  masters,  either  living  or  dead,  becomes  sovereign  and 
preponderant  in  the  transformations  of  their  arts.  In  this 
way  the  "  capricious  oscillations "  of  Egyptian  architec- 
ture may  be  explained;  and,  if  the  development  of  Greek 
architecture  appears  to  be  more  rectilinear,  is  this  not  an  il- 
lusion? If  we  do  not  limit  ourselves  to  the  consideration  of 
two  or  three  remarkable  centuries  of  Greek  development,  if 
we  include  the  entire  unfolding  of  Greek  art  from  its  scarcely 
known  beginnings  to  its  final  Byzantine  transformations, 
shall  we  not  see  that  that  increasing  need  of  more  slender 
proportions  which  M.  Perrot  points  out,  begins,  at  a  certain 
epoch,  to  diminish?  The  birth  and  growth  of  this  optical 
need  was  due  to  a  series  of  elegant  and  graceful  artists,  just 
as  generations  of  solid  builders  made  the  need  of  massive 
solidity  a  general  and  permanent  thing  on  the  banks  of  the 
Nile.  And  yet  contributions  of  a  different  style  were  not 
lacking  when  an  architect  of  originality,  one  less  inclined  to 
conform  to  the  national  genius  than  to  reform  it,  made  his 
appearance  on  the  scene.  But  how  much  these  considera- 
tions would  gain  by  being  illustrated  by  examples  taken 
from  the  higher  arts,  from  painting  and  poetry  and  music ! 

1  Do  we  find  anything  analogous  to  the  obelisk  outside  of  Egypt? 
It  is  because  obelisks  do  not  answer  to  a  need  that  is  for  the  most  part 
natural,  like  doors  or  windows  or  like  columns  in  so  far  as  they  are 
supports,  but  to  a  need  that  is  almost  entirely  social. 


CHAPTER  III 

WHAT  IS  A  SOCIETY? 

THE  meaning  which  I  attach  to  society  can  be  clearly 
enough  inferred  from  what  has  preceded,  but  it  is  proper 
to  express  this  fundamental  notion  still  more  precisely. 

I 

What  is  a  society  ?  The  general  answer  is  as  follows :  It 
is  a  group  of  distinct  individuals  who  render  one  another 
mutual  services.  But  this  definition  is  as  false  as  it  is  clear. 
It  has  been  the  source  of  all  those  confusions  which  have  so 
often  been  made  between  so-called  animal  societies,  or  the 
majority  of  them,  and  the  only  true  societies,  which  do  in- 
clude, in  a  certain  connection,  a  small  number  of  animals.1 

For  this  wholly  economic  notion,  a  notion  which  bases  the 
social  group  upon  mutual  helpfulness,  it  might  be  an  ad- 
vantage to  substitute  a  purely  juristic  conception  of  society. 
In  this  case,  an  individual  would  not  be  associated  with 
those  to  whom  he  was  useful  or  who  were  useful  to  him, 
but  with  those,  and  only  with  those,  who  had  established 
over  him  recognised  rights  of  law,  custom,  and  conven- 
tionality, or  over  whom  he  had  analogous  rights,  with  or 
without  reciprocity.  But  we  shall  see  that  although  this 
is  a  preferable  point  of  view,  yet  it  unduly  restricts  the  so- 
cial group,  just  as  the  economic  point  of  view  unduly  en- 
larges it.  Finally,  we  might  think  of  the  social  tie  as  en- 
tirely political  or  religious  in  character.  Belief  in  the  same 
religion  or  collaboration  for  the  same  patriotic  purpose,  a 
purpose  common  to  all  the  associates  and  one  absolutely 
distinct  from  their  different  individual  wants,  for  whose 

1  I  should  be  sorry  to  have  the  reader  find  any  implicit  criticism  in 
these  lines  of  the  work  of  M.  Espinas  upon  "  Animal  Societies."  That 
work  is  redeemed  by  too  many  true  and  profound  insights  to  be  ar« 
raigned  for  the  confusion  referred  to  in  the  text. 


60  Laws  of  Imitation 

satisfaction  it  matters  little  whether  they  aid  each  other  or 
not,  would  constitute  a  true  social  relationship.  Such  moral 
and  mental  unanimity  is  undoubtedly  characteristic  of  ma- 
ture societies;  but  it  is  also  true  that  social  ties  may  begin 
without  it.  They  exist,  for  example,  among  Europeans  of 
different  nationalities.  Consequently,  this  definition  is  too 
narrow.  Moreover,  the  conformity  of  aims  and  beliefs  of 
which  we  are  speaking,  this  mental  likeness,  which  may 
characterise  tens  and  hundreds  of  millions  of  men  at  the 
same  time,  is  not  born  all  of  a  sudden.  It  is  produced 
little  by  little,  and  extends  from  one  man  to  another  by 
means  of  imitation.  This,  then,  is  always  the  point  to  which 
we  must  return. 

If  the  relation  of  one  social  unit  to  another  consisted  es- 
sentially of  an  exchange  of  services,  we  should  not  only 
have  to  recognise  the  right  of  animal  groups  to  be  called 
societies,  we  should  have  to  admit  that  they  were  the  socie- 
ties par  excellence.  The  mutual  services  of  shepherd  and 
husbandman,  of  hunter  and  fisherman,  of  baker  and  butcher, 
are  far  less  than  those  which  the  different  sexes  of  white 
ants  render  one  another.  Among  animals  themselves, 
the  most  typical  societies  would  not  be  formed  by  the 
highest,  by  bees,  ants,  horses,  and  beavers,  but  by  the  lowest, 
by  the  siphonophorse,  for  example,  where  division  of  labour 
is  so  complete  that  eating  and  digesting  are  carried  on 
separately  by  different  individuals.  There  can  be  no  more 
signal  interchange  of  services  than  this.  Applying  this 
view  to  mankind  it  might  be  saidj  without  irony,  that  the 
strength  of  the  social  tie  between  men  was  in  proportion  to 
the  degree  of  their  reciprocal  usefulness.  The  master  who 
shelters  and  nourishes  his  slave  and  the  noble  who  defends 
and  protects  his  serf,  in  return  for  their  subordinate  ser- 
vices, are  examples  of  mutual  service.  The  reciprocity  is 
gained,  to  be  sure,  by  force;  but  that  fact  is  insignificant  if 
the  economic  point  of  view  is  the  primary  one  and  if  we 
think  that  it  is  bound  to  encroach  more  and  more  upon  the 
juristic  point  of  view.  .  .  Consequently,  the  social  tie  be- 
tween the  Spartan  and  the  helot,  or  between  a  noble  and  his 


What  is  a  Society  ?  6 1 

serf,  or  between  a  Hindoo  warrior  and  a  Hindoo  merchant, 
is  stronger  than  that  between  free  Spartan  citizens,  or  that 
between  the  feudal  nobles  of  a  single  country,  or  that  be- 
tween the  helots  or  serfs  who  live  in  the  same  village,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  the  members  of  all  these  classes  may 
possess  the  same  customs  and  language  and  religion ! 

We  have  erred  in  thinking  that  societies  in  becoming 
civilised  have  favoured  economic  at  the  expense  of  juristic 
relations.  In  doing  this,  we  forget  that  all  labour  and  ser- 
vice and  exchange  is  based  upon  a  true  system  of  contract, 
a  system  which  is  guaranteed  by  more  and  more  formal  and 
complex  legislation;  and  we  forget  that  to  this  accumula- 
tion of  legal  rules  are  added  commercial  and  other  kinds  of 
usages  which  have  the  force  of  law,  besides  a  host  of  all 
kinds  of  procedures,  from  the  simple  but  general  formalities 
of  polite  manners  to  electoral  and  parliamentary  practices.1 
Society  is  far  more  a  system  of  mutually  determined  engage- 
ments and  agreements,  of  rights  and  duties,  than  a  system 
of  mutual  services.  This  is  the  reason  why  it  is  established 
between  beings  who  are  alike  or  who  differ  little  from  each 
other.  Economic  production  exacts  a  specialisation  of  apt- 
itudes. If  this  specialisation  were  fully  developed  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  logically  inevitable  although  unexpressed 
wish  of  economists,  we  should  have  as  many  distinct  hu- 
man species  as  there  are  miners,  farmers,  weavers,  lawyers, 
physicians,  etc.  But,  fortunately,  the  assured  and  undeni- 
able preponderance  of  juridical  relations  prevents  any  exces- 
sive differentiation  of  workers.  In  fact,  it  is  continually 
diminishing  such  distinctions.  Here  Law,  it  is  true,  is 
only  one  form  or  outcome  of  man's  inclination  towards  imi- 
tation. Is  it  from  the  standpoint  of  utilitarianism  that  the 
peasant  is  given  an  education  and  instructed  in  his  rights 
when  as  the  result  of  this  kind  of  education  the  rural  popu- 
lation may  desert  its  plough  and  spade  and  the  double 
mammal  of  husbandry  and  herding  may  dry  up?  The 

1  It  is  a  mistake  to  think  that  the  rule  of  ceremony,  of  ceremonial 
government,  to  use  Spencer's  term,  is  on  the  decline.  At  the  side  of 
outgrown  conventions  or  dying-out  ceremonial,  vigorous  ceremonies 
arise  and  multiply  under  the  name  of  conventions. 


62  Laws  of  Imitation 

cult  of  equality  has  outweighed  any  fear  of  this  latter 
contingency.  We  have  wished  to  promote  in  the  social 
scale  certain  classes  which  formerly,  in  spite  of  a  constant 
exchange  of  services,  did  not  come  in  for  so  much  con- 
sideration and,  consequently,  we  have  appreciated  that  it 
was  necessary  to  assimilate  them  through  the  contagion  of 
imitation  with  the  members  of  a  higher  grade  of  society. 
To  put  it  better,  it  was  necessary  to  bring  into  their  mental 
and  social  life  ideas,  desires,  and  needs,  in  a  word,  individ- 
ual elements  like  those  which  constituted  the  mind  and 
character  of  the  members  of  that  society. 

Beings  which  differ  greatly  in  kind,  the  shark,  for  ex- 
ample, and  the  little  fish  which  he  uses  as  a  mouth  scavenger, 
or  man  and  the  domestic  animals,  can  be  of  much  service 
to  each  other,  and  at  times,  like  the  huntsman  and  his  dog 
or  like  men  and  women  very  different  as  they  often  are  from 
each  other,  work  together  in  a  common  undertaking.  But 
the  recognition  and  assumption  by  two  beings  of  mutual 
rights  and  obligations  involves  one  indispensable  condition, 
the  possession  of  a  common  foundation  of  ideas  and  tradi- 
tions, of  a  common  language  or  interpreter.  These  close 
points  of  likeness  are  formed  by  education,  which  is  one  of 
the  forms  by  which  imitation  spreads.  For  this  reason  the 
recognition  of  mutual  responsibilities  never  arose  between 
the  Spanish  or  English  conquerors  of  America  and  the  con- 
quered natives.  In  this  case;  racial  dissimilarity  either 
played  a  much  smaller  role  than  difference  of  language, 
custom,  or  religion;  or  it  served  merely  as  an  added  cause 
of  incompatibility.1  This  is  the  reason,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  a  close  chain  of  reciprocal  rights  and  obligations 
united  all  members  of  the  feudal  tree  from  its  topmost 
branch  to  its  nethermost  root  in  an  eminently  juridical  in- 
stitution. Here,  in  fact,  Christian  propagandism  had 

1  In  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  when  military  and 
civil  populations  were  radically  unlike,  the  standards  of  the  time 
justified  the  perpetration  of  every  kind  of  outrage,  of  rape,  pillage, 
massacre,  etc.,  by  campaigning  troops  upon  either  friendly  or  hostile 
civilians.  But  among  themselves  soldiers  were  more  sparing  of  one 
another. 


What  is  a  Society  ?  63 

produced  in  the  twelfth  century  the  most  profound  mental 
assimilation  from  the  emperor  to  the  serf  that  has  ever 
been  seen.  And  it  was  essentially  because  of  this  network 
of  rights,  that  feudal  Europe  formed  from  one  end  of  it  to 
the  other  a  true  society,  the  society  of  Christendom,  which 
was  as  widespread  as  Romanism  (Romanitas)  in  the  best 
days  of  the  Roman  Empire.  If  we  require  any  counter- 
proof  of  this,  we  may  find  it  in  the  fact  that  a  real  social  tie 
is  never  established  between  the  Chinese  and  Hindoo  emi- 
grants to  the  Antilles  and  their  white  masters  by  their 
reciprocity  of  services,  or  even  by  their  bilateral  contracts, 
for  they  never  become  assimilated  to  one  another.  Here 
two  or  three  distinct  civilisations,  two  or  three  distinct 
groups  of  inventions  which  have  spread  out  through  imita- 
tion in  their  own  particular  spheres,  come  into  mutual  con- 
tact and  mutual  service,  but  there  is  no  society  in  the  true 
sense  of  the  word. 

The  Hindoo  caste  system  was  based  mainly  on  an  eco- 
nomic conception  of  society.  Castes  were  distinct  races 
which  were  of  vast  assistance  to  one  another.  We  see, 
then,  that  the  tendency  to  subordinate  moral  considerations 
of  rights  to  utilitarian  considerations  of  service  and  occupa- 
tion does  not  denote  an  advanced  state  of  civilisation. 
This  tendency  diminishes,  in  fact,  as  mankind  improves  and 
as  industry  itself  progresses.1  In  reality,  the  civilised 
man  of  to-day  is  inclined  to  do  without  the  assistance  of 
his  fellow.  He  appeals  less  and  less  to  the  professional 

1  In  his  remarkable  work  on  Cinematics,  Reuleaux,  the  German 
director  of  the  Industrial  Academy  of  Berlin,  observes  that  industrial 
progress  demonstrates  more  clearly  every  day  that  economists  err  in 
attaching  undue  importance  to  the  division  of  labour.  It  is  the  co- 
ordination which  results  from  it  that  deserves  the  chief  praise.  This 
is  true  also  of  "  the  division  of  organic  labour  " ;  without  an  admirable 
organic  harmony,  it  would  not  be  in  the  slightest  degree  a  step  in  vital 
progress.  "  The  principle  of  machine  work,"  M.  Reuleaux  remarks  in 
particular,  "  contradicts,  in  part,  at  any  rate,  the  principle  of  division 
of  labour.  ...  In  the  most  improved  modern  factories,  the  men 
who  tend  the  different  machines  are  shifted  from  one  place  to  another 
in  order  to  break  the  monotony  of  their  work."  An  increasing  special- 
isation in  the  work  of  the  machine  produces  the  opposite  result  in  the 
work  of  the  mechanic.  Otherwise,  as  Reuleaux  observes,  the  workman 
would  become  more  mechanical  as  the  machine  became  a  better  workman. 


64  Laws  of  Imitation 

specialist  who  is  fundamentally  unlike  himself  and  more 
and  more  to  the  forces  of  subjugated  nature.  Is  not  the 
social  ideal  of  the  future  the  enlarged  reproduction  of  the 
city  of  antiquity,  where  slaves  would  be  replaced  by  ma- 
chines,— an  idea  that  has  been  tediously  reiterated, — and 
where  a  small  homogeneous  group  of  citizens  in  constant 
imitation  and  assimilation  of  one  another,  hut  inde- 
pendent and  self-sufficient  in  other  respects,  in  times  of 
peace  at  least,  would  constitute  the  sum  total  of  civilised 
men?  Economic  solidarity  establishes  a  vital  rather  than 
a  social  tie  between  workers  and  no  organisation  of  labour 
will  ever  be  comparable,  in  this  respect,  to  the  most  im- 
perfect organism.  Juridical  solidarity  has,  on  the  other 
hand,  a  purely  social  character,  because  it  presupposes  the 
kind  of  similarity  that  is  due  to  imitation.  Given  this  simi- 
larity, and  we  have,  notwithstanding  a  lack  of  recognised 
rights,  a  beginning  of  society.  Louis  XIV  did  not  recog- 
nise the  fact  that  his  subjects  had  any  claims  whatsoever 
upon  him,  and  his  subjects  shared  his  delusion;  nevertheless, 
he  was  socially  related  to  them,  because  both  he  and  they 
were  products  of  the  same  classical  and  Christian  educa- 
tion, because  everyone  from  the  Court  at  Paris  to  the  heart 
of  Brittany  and  Provence  looked  up  to  him  as  a  model, 
and  because  he  himself  was  unconsciously  reacted  upon  by 
the  influence  of  his  courtiers,  a  kind  of  diffused  imitation 
experienced  by  him  in  return  for  that  radiating  from  him. 
Social  relations,  I  repeat,  are  much  closer  between  indi- 
viduals who  resemble  each  other  in  occupation  and  edu- 
cation, even  if  they  are  competitors,  than  between  those 
who  stand  most  in  need  of  each  other.  Lawyers,  journal- 
ists, magistrates,  all  professional  men,  are  cases  in  point. 
So  society  has  been  properly  denned  by  common  speech 
as  a  group  of  people  who,  although  they  may  disagree  in 
ideas  and  sentiments,  yet,  having  had  the  same  kind  of 
bringing  up,  have  a  common  meeting  ground  and  see  and 
influence  one  another  for  pleasure.  As  for  the  employees 
of  the  same  shop  or  factory  who  meet  together  for  mutual 
assistance  or  collaboration,  they  constitute  a  commercial  or 


What  is  a  Society  ?  65 

industrial  society,  not  a  society  pure  and  simple,  not  a 
society  in  the  unqualified  sense  of  the  word.1 

A  nation,  which  is  a  kind  of  super-organic  organism 
made  up  of  co-operative  castes  and  classes  and  professions, 
is  quite  different  from  a  society.  This  distinction  is  ob- 
vious in  the  denationalisation  and  socialisation  which  is 
taking  place  to-day  among  hundreds  of  millions  of  men. 
It  does  not  seem  to  me  that  the  multiple  uniformities  to 
which  we  are  hastening  in  language,  education,  instruction, 
etc.,  have  as  yet  proved  to  be  the  fittest  ways  to  assure  the 
accomplishment  of  the  innumerable  tasks  which  nations 
and  associations  of  individuals  have  heretofore  divided  up 
among  themselves.  It  may  well  be  that  the  scholar-peasant 
is  not  a  better  farmer  for  his  learning,  nor  the  sol- 
dier a  better  disciplined  or,  who  knows,  a  braver  fighter. 
But  when  we  bring  the  steadfast  partisans  of  progress 
face  to  face  with  these  threatening  possibilities,  it  is  because 
we  do  not  have  the  point  of  view  which  they,  perhaps  un- 
consciously, hold.  They  wish  for  the  most  intense  kind  of 
socialisation,  not  for  the  highest  and  strongest  kind  of  social 
organisation,  quite  a  different  thing.  They  would  be  satis- 
fied, if  need  be,  by  an  exuberance  of  social  life  in  a  weakened 
social  organisation.  We  have  still  to  learn  how  desirable 
this  end  may  be.  Let  us  hold  this  question  in  reserve. 

The  fret  and  instability  of  modern  societies  must  seem 
inexplicable  to  economists  and,  in  general,  to  those  sociolo- 
gists who  base  society  upon  reciprocal  utility.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  reciprocity  of  services  between  different  classes  and 
different  nations  does  plainly  exist,  and  it  increases  day 
by  day,  thanks  to  the  co-operation  of  law  and  custom, 
with  the  utmost  rapidity.  But  we  forget  that  the  in- 

1  Both  lawyers  and  physicians  vie  with  fellow  professionals  for  public 
patronage,  but,  in  the  legal  profession,  community  of  work  tempers 
the  heat  and  bitterness  of  competition  and  selfish  resentment  and  neces- 
sarily develops  certain  fraternal  relations.  Among  physicians,  on  the 
contrary,  nothing  takes  the  edge  off  their  struggle  and  rivalry ;  for  as 
a  rule  they  do  not  work  together.  Consequently,  paroxysms  of  pro- 
fessional hatred  and  animosity  characterise  the  medical  fraternity,  and, 
I  may  add,  all  bodies  of  men,  such  as  notaries,  pharmacists,  or  merchants, 
who  work  independently  of  one  another. 


66  Laws  of  Imitation 

dividuals  who  compose  these  classes  and  nations  are  be- 
coming even  more  rapidly  and  thoroughly  assimilated, 
although  this  process  of  imitation  is  still  hindered  by  irri- 
tating obstacles,  by  customs,  and  even  by  laws  which  are, 
perhaps,  the  more  irritating  the  less  discouraging  they  ap- 
pear to  be. 

Contemporary  civilisation  in  England,  America,  France, 
in  all  modern  countries,  tends  to  diminish  the  intellectual 
difference,  which  was  becoming  more  and  more  deep  and 
far-reaching,  between  men  and  women  by  opening  up 
most  of  men's  occupations  to  women  and  by  letting  the 
latter  share  in  almost  all  the  advantages  of  training  and 
education  of  the  former.  In  this  respect,  civilisation  treats 
the  weaker  sex  just  as  it  treated  the  peasant  or  free  agri- 
cultural labourer  when  it  took  him  out  of  the  distinct  caste 
into  which  it  had  gradually  come  to  put  him  and  replaced 
him  in  the  big  social  group.  Now,  is  social  utility  the  end 
in  view  in  either  case?  Were  these  transformations 
brought  about  to  enable  either  class  to  be  more  successful 
in  performing  its  special  function,  in  cultivating  the  soil, 
or  in  nourishing  and  caring  for  children?  On  the  contrary, 
many  pessimists  like  myself  foresee  the  time  when,  in  con- 
sequence of  these  changes,  we  shall  be  without  agricultural 
labourers,  without  nurses,  and  even  without  mothers  who 
can  or  will  nourish  the  continually  decreasing  number  of 
their  children.  But  because  the  enlargement  of  the  social  cir- 
cle was  the  end  in  view  and  because  the  assimilation  of 
^vomen  with  men,  of  peasants  with  townsmen,  was  an  indis- 
pensable condition  of  this  socialisation,  assimilation  had  to 
occur. 

As  early  as  the  eighteenth  century,  in  a  more  restricted 
social  circle,  in  the  brilliant  social  life  of  the  common  meet- 
ing ground  of  the  salon,  both  sexes  were  brought  closer 
together  in  tastes  and  ideas  than  they  were  in  the  Middle 
Ages;  and  we  know  that  this  social  advantage  was  bought 
at  the  price  of  family  fruitfulness  and  even  at  that  of 
family  honour.  And  yet  people  were  happy  under  these 
circumstances,  because  a  higher  necessity  impels  the  social 


What  is  a  Society  ?  67 

circle,  be  it  what  it  may,  to  continually  widen  its  circum- 
ference. 

Am  I  socially  related  to  other  men  who  may  belong  to  the 
same  physical  type  and  possess  the  same  organs  and  the  same 
senses  that  I  do?  Am  I  socially  related  to  an  educated  deaf 
mute  who  may  closely  resemble  me  in  face  and  figure?  No, 
I  am  not.  Inversely,  the  animals  of  La  Fontaine's  fables, 
the  fox,  the  cricket,  the  cat,  and  the  dog,  live  together  in  so- 
ciety, in  spite  of  the  difference  in  species  which  separates 
them,  because  they  all  speak  the  same  language.1  We  eat, 
drink,  digest,  walk,  or  cry  without  being  taught.  These  acts 
are  purely  vital.  But  talking  requires  the  hearing  of  con- 
versation, as  we  know  from  the  case  of  deaf  mutes  who  are 
dumb  because  they  are  deaf.  Consequently,  I  begin  to  feel 
a  social  kinship  with  everyone  who  talks,  even  if  it  be  in  a 

1  Romanes  devotes  one  very  interesting  chapter  in  his  Mental  Evolu- 
tion in  Animals  to  the  influence  of  imitation  upon  the  origin  and  devel- 
opment of  instincts.  This  influence  is  much  greater  and  more  far- 
spread  than  we  suppose.  It  is  not  only  the  related  and  even  the  un- 
related individuals  of  the  same  species  who  copy  one  another, — many 
song  birds  learn  to  sing  only  through  the  teaching  of  their  mothers  or 
companio'ns. — individuals  of  different  species  as  well  borrow  both  the 
useful  and  the  unmeaning  peculiarities  of  one  another.  Here  we  see  the 
deep-seated  desire  to  imitate  for  the  sake  of  imitation,  the  desire  which 
is  the  original  source  of  all  our  arts.  A  mocking-bird  can  imitate  a 
cock's  crow  so  accurately  that  the  very  hens  are  deceived.  Darwin 
thought  that  some  hive-bees  that  he  had  observed  had  borrowed  from 
the  humble-bees  their  ingenious  method  of  sucking  the  nectar  of  certain 
flowers  by  boring  their  under  sides.  Certain  birds  and  insects  and  ani- 
mals are  creatures  of  genius,  and  genius  even  in  the  animal  world  can 
count  upon  some  measure  of  success.  Only,  these  social  attempts  prove 
abortive  for  lack  of  language.  Not  man  only,  but  every  animal,  reaches 
out  according  to  his  degree  of  mentality  to  a  social  life  as  the  sine  qua 
non  of  mental  development.  Why  is  this?  Because  the  cerebral  func- 
tion, the  mind,  is  distinguished  from  other  functions  in  not  being  a 
simple  adaptation  of  definite  means  to  definite  ends,  but  in  being  an 
adaptation  to  many  indeterminate  ends  which  depend  more  or  less  upon 
chance  to  be  made  definite  through  the  same  far-reaching  means  by 
which  they  are  in  the  first  instance  pursued,  namely,  through  imitation 
of  outside  things.  This  infinite  outside,  this  outer  world  which  is 
pictured,  represented,  imitated,  by  sensation  and  intelligence,  is  pri- 
marily universal  nature  in  its  continual  and  irresistible  action  by  sug- 
gestion upon  the  animal's  brain  and  muscular  system;  later  on,  how- 
ever, it  is  pre-eminently  the  social  environment. 


68  Laws  of  Imitation 

strange  tongue,  providing  our  two  idioms  appear  to  me 
to  have  some  common  source.  This  social  tie  may  be 
weak  and  inadequate,  but  it  gains  in  strength  as  other 
common  traits,  all  originating  in  imitation,  are  added 
to  it. 

Society  may  therefore  be  defined  as  a  group  of  beings 
who  are  apt  to  imitate  one  another,  or  who,  without  actual 
imitation,  are  alike  in  their  possession  of  common  traits 
which  are  ancient  copies  of  the  same  model. 

II 

We  must  not  confuse  the  social  type  of  a  given  place  or 
period,  as  it  is  more  or  less  incompletely  reproduced  in  every 
member  of  the  social  group,  with  the  social  group  itself. 
What  constitutes  this  type?  A  certain  number  of  wants 
and  ideas  which  have  been  created  by  thousands  of  time- 
accumulated  inventions  and  discoveries.  These  wants 
harmonise  to  a  certain  extent,  that  is,  they  contribute  to  the 
supremacy  of  some  dominant  desire  which  is  the  soul  of  a 
given  epoch  or  people.  The  ideas  or  beliefs  also  harmonise 
more  or  less ;  that  is,  they  are  logically  related  to  one  another 
or,  at  least,  they  do  not  in  general  mutually  contradict  one 
another.  This  twofold,  always  incomplete,  and,  in  certain 
notes,  discordant  accord,  which  is  gradually  established  be- 
tween things  which  have  been  fortuitously  produced  and 
brought  together,  may  be  perfectly  well  compared  to  what 
is  called  in  a  living  body  organic  adaptation.  But  it  has  the 
advantage  of  being  free  from  the  mystery  which  is  inherent 
in  this  latter  kind  of  harmony;  it  points  out  in  extremely 
clear  terms  the  relations  of  means  to  an  end  or  of  conse- 
quences to  a  principle,  two  relations  which  amount,  after  all, 
to  one,  the  latter  one  of  the  two.  What  is  the  meaning  of  the 
incompatibility  or  discord  that  may  exist  between  two  organs, 
or  conformations,  or  characteristics  taken  from  two  differ- 
ent species?  We  do  not  know,  but  we  do  know  that  when 
two  ideas  are  incompatible  it  means  that  one  of  them  implies 
a  negative  to  the  affirmative  of  the  other  and  that  for  the 
same  reason  the  consistency  of  two  ideas  means  the  lack,  or 


What  is  a  Society  ?  69 

the  apparent  lack,  of  all  such  implications.  Finally,  we  know 
that  when  two  ideas  more  or  less  agree,  it  is  because  the  one 
implies  in  a  more  or  less  considerable  number  of  its  aspects 
the  affirmation  of  a  more  or  less  considerable  number  of  the 
points  which  the  other  affirms.  There  is  nothing  less  obscure, 
nothing  more  enlightening,  than  these  psychical  acts  of  af- 
firmation and  negation.  In  them  the  whole  life  of  the  mind 
is  wrapped  up.  Nor  is  there  anything  more  intelligible  than 
their  opposition.  In  it  is  expressed  the  opposition  between 
desire  and  repulsion,  between  velle  and  nolle.  Thus  we  see 
that  a  social  type  or  what  is  called  a  particular  civilisation 
is  a  veritable  system,  a  more  or  less  coherent  theory,  whose 
inner  contradictions  eventually  strengthen  themselves  or 
eventually  break  out  and  force  its  disruption.  Under  such  con- 
ditions it  is  easy  to  understand  why  there  are  certain  pure 
and  strong  types  of  civilisation  and  certain  mixed  and  feeble 
types,  and  why  the  purest  types  change  and  decay  upon  the 
addition  of  new  inventions  which  stimulate  new  desires  and 
beliefs  and  disturb  the  balance  of  old  desires  and  faiths; 
why,  in  other  words,  all  inventions  cannot  be  added  to 
others,  and  why  many  can  merely  be  substituted  for  others, 
those,  namely,  that  stimulate  desires  and  beliefs  which  are 
implicitly  or  explicitly  contradictory  in  all  the  logical  ex- 
actness of  the  word.  Therefore,  in  the  oscillations  of  his- 
tory there  is  nothing  but  endless  additions  and  subtractions 
of  quantities  of  faith  or  desire  which  are  brought  forward 
by  discoveries  and  which  reinforce  or  neutralise  one  an- 
other, like  intersecting  vibrations. 

This  is  the  national  type  which,  as  I  have  said,  is  re- 
peated in  every  member  of  the  nation.  It  is  like  a  great 
seal,  which  makes  an  imperfect  mark  upon  the  bits  of  wax 
which  it  stamps,  but  which  could  not  be  completely  recast 
without  comparing  all  its  impressions. 

Ill 

What  I  defined  above  was  really  not  so  much  society,  in 
the  common  sense  of  the  word,  as  sociality.  A  society  is 
always  in  different  degrees  an  association,  and  association 


70  Laws  of  Imitation 

is  to  sociality,  to  imitativeness,  so  to  speak,  what  organisa- 
tion is  to  vitality,  or  what  molecular  structure  is  to  the 
elasticity  of  the  ether.  Here  are  some  new  analogies  in 
addition  to  those  which  seemed  to  me  to  be  presented  in 
such  abundance  by  the  three  great  forms  of  Universal 
Repetition.  But,  perhaps,  in  order  to  fully  understand 
sociality  in  its  relative  form,  the  only  one  in  which  in  va- 
rious degrees  it  actually  occurs,  it  may  be  well  to  conceive 
of  it,  hypothetically,  as  perfect  and  absolute.  In  its  hypo- 
thetical form  it  would  consist  of  such  an  intense  concentra- 
tion of  urban  life  that  as  soon  as  a  good  idea  arose  in  one 
mind  it  would  be  instantaneously  transmitted  to  all  minds 
throughout  the  city.  This  hypothesis  is  analogous  to  that 
of  physicists  who  state  that  if  the  elasticity  of  the  ether 
were  perfect,  luminious  excitations,  etc.,  would  be  trans- 
mitted without  lapse  of  time.  Would  it  not  be  useful  for 
biologists  to  conceive,  on  their  part,  of  an  absolute  irrita- 
bility incarnated  in  a  kind  of  ideal  protoplasm,  a  conception 
which  would  help  them  to  understand  the  varying  vitality 
of  real  protoplasm? 

With  this  for  our  starting  point,  if  we  wish  to  carry  our 
analogy  straight  through,  life  would  be.  merely  the  organi- 
sation of  protoplasmic  irritability,  matter,  the  organisation 
of  ethereal  elasticity,  and  society,  the  organisation  of  imi- 
tativeness. Now,  it  is  almost  superfluous  to  remark  that  the 
hypothesis  which  was  conceived  of  by  Thompson  and 
adopted  by  Wurtz  on  the  origin  of  atoms  and  molecules, 
the  vortex  theory,  extremely  plausible  and  probable  as  it 
is,  to  say  the  least,  as  well  as  the  universally  accepted 
protoplasmic  theory  of  life,  fully  answers  one  of  the  de- 
mands of  our  point  of  view.  Given  a  mass  of  children  who 
have  been  brought  up  together  and  given  the  same  educa- 
tion in  the  same  environment  and  who  have  not  yet  sepa- 
rated into  classes  and  professions,  and  we  have  the  ground- 
matter  of  society.  It  kneads  this  mass,  and  then,  through  an 
artificial  and  inevitable  differentiation  of  functions,  develops 
it  into  a  nation.  Given  a  mass  of  protoplasm,  i.  e.,  of  ho- 
mogeneous molecules,  which  can  be,  but  have  not  been, 


What  is  a  Society?  71 

organised,  and  which  have  all  been  assimilated  by  virtue 
of  the  obscure  mode  of  reproduction  from  which  they 
originated,  and  we  have  the  ground-matter  of  life. 
From  it,  cells,  tissues,  individuals,  and  species  are 
formed.  Finally,  given  a  mass  of  homogeneous  ether 
whose  elements  are  thrilled  by  the  same  rapidly  exchanging 
vibrations,  according  to  our  theoretical  chemists,  and  we 
have  the  ground-matter  of  matter.  From  this  the  corpus- 
cles of  all  bodies,  however  heterogeneous  they  may  be,  are 
made.  For  a  body  is  merely  an  accord  of  differentiated  and 
subordinated  vibrations  which  have  been  separately  pro- 
duced in  distinct  and  interwoven  series,  just  as  an  organism 
is  only  an  accord  of  different  elementary  and  harmonious 
inward  reproductions,  of  distinct  and  interwoven  kinds  of 
histological  elements,  or  just  as  a  nation  is  only  an  accord  of 
traditions,  customs,  teachings,  tendencies,  and  ideas  which 
have  spread  in  different  ways  through  imitation,  but  which 
are  subordinate  to  one  another  in  a  fraternal  and  mutually 
helpful  hierarchy. 

The  law  of  differentiation,  then,  comes  into  play  here. 
But  it  is  not  superfluous  to  note  that  the  homogeneity  upon 
which  it  acts  under  three  superimposed  forms  is  a  super- 
ficial, although  real,  homogeneity,  and  that,  if  we  continue 
the  analogy,  our  sociological  point  of  view  would  lead  us  to 
admit  that  in  protoplasm  there  are  some  elements  which 
have  highly  individualistic  features  under  their  mask  of 
apparent  uniformity,  and  that  in  ether  itself  the  atoms  are 
individually  as  characteristic  as  the  children  of  the  best  dis- 
ciplined school  may  be.  Heterogeneity,  not  homogeneity, 
is  at  the  heart  of  things.  Could  anything  be  more  im- 
probable or  more  absurd  than  the  co-existence  of  an  endless 
number  of  elements  created  to  be  co-eternally  alike  ?  Things 
are  not  born  alike,  they  become  alike.  And,  besides,  is 
not  the  inborn  diversity  of  the  elements  the  sole  possible 
justification  of  their  variability? 

I  might  be  willing  to  go  still  further  and  say  that  without 
this  initial  and  fundamental  heterogeneity,  the  homogene- 
ity which  screens  and  disguises  it  never  would  or  could  have 


72  Laws  of  Imitation 

occurred.  In  fact,  all  homogeneity  is  a  likeness  of  parts 
and  all  likeness  is  the  outcome  of  an  assimilation  which  has 
been  produced  by  the  voluntary  or  non-voluntary  repetition 
of  what  was  in  the  beginning  an  individual  innovation. 
But  there  is  something  more  to  be  said.  When  the  homo- 
geneity in  question,  when  ether  or  protoplasm,  when  a  mass 
of  people  who  have  been  levelled  down  and  put  upon  a  foot- 
ing of  equality,  becomes  differentiated  in  order  to  become 
organised,  do  we  not  find,  judging  from  what  passes  in  our 
own  societies  at  least,  that  the  change  in  its  character  is 
another  effect  of  the  very  same  cause?  After  proselytism 
has  assimilated  a  people,  despotism  steps  in  to  rule  over 
them  and  impose  a  hierarchy  upon  them;  but  despot  and 
apostle  are  alike  refractory  individuals  upon  whom  the 
democratic  or  aristocratic  yoke  of  others  has  been  a  burden. 
For  every  individual  conflict  or  outbreak  which  succeeds 
in  this  way  there  are,  of  course,  hundreds  of  millions  which 
are  suppressed,  but  which  are,  nevertheless,  the  nursery  of 
the  great  innovations  of  the  future.  This  wealth  of  varia- 
tions, this  exuberance  of  picturesque  fancies  and  erratic 
designs  which  Nature  unrolls  so  magnificently  under  her 
austere  garb  of  time-honoured  laws,  repetitions,  and 
rhythms  can  have  but  one  source;  the  tumultuous  originality 
of  elements  that  have  been  but  partly  brought  under  these 
yokes  of  nature,  the  radical  and  innate  diversity  that  bursts 
out  through  all  these  uniformities  of  law  to  be  transfigured 
upon  the  fair  surface  of  things. 

I  will  not  follow  up  these  last  considerations,  for  they 
would  lead  us  away  from  our  subject.  I  only  wished  to 
point  out  that  our  search  for  law,  i.  e.,  for  like  facts 
either  in  nature  or  history,  must  not  make  us  forget  their 
hidden  agents,  agents  which  are  both  original  and  individ- 
ual. Passing  on.  then,  we  may  draw  a  useful  lesson  from 
what  preceded,  namely,  that  the  assimilation  together  with 
the  equalisation  of  the  members  of  a  society  is  not,  as  we 
are  led  to  think,  the  final  term  of  a  prior  social  progres- 
sion; it  is,  on  the  contrary,  the  point  of  departure  for  a 
new  social  advance.  Every  new  form  of  civilisation  be- 


What  is  a  Society  ?  73 

gins  in  this  way.  In  the  homogeneous  and  democratic 
communities  of  the  early  Christians,  the  bishop  was  merely 
one  of  the  faithful  and  the  pope  was  not  to  be  distinguished 
from  the  bishop.  In  the  Prankish  army,  booty  was  dis- 
tributed in  equal  portions  between  the  king  and  his  compan- 
ions-in-arms.  The  first  caliphs  to  succeed  Mahomet  argued 
in  court  like  simple  Mahometans ;  the  equality  of  all  the  sons 
of  the  Prophet  before  the  Koran  had  not  yet  become  the 
mere  fiction  which  the  equality  of  Frenchmen  or  Europeans 
before  the  law  is  eventually  bound  to  become.  Then,  by 
degrees,  a  radical  inequality,  the  condition  of  solid  organi- 
sation, came  to  be  hollowed  out  in  the  Arab  world,  some- 
what as  the  ecclesiastical  hierarchy  of  Catholicism  or  the 
feudal  pryamid  of  the  Middle  Ages  was  formed.  The  past 
speaks  for  the  future.  Equality  is  only  a  transition  between 
two  hierarchies,  just  as  liberty  is  only  a  passage  between 
two  disciplines.  But  this  does  not  mean  that  the  confidence 
and  power,  the  knowledge  and  security,  of  every  citizen  do 
not  go  on  increasing  from  age  to  age. 

Now  let  us  take  up  another  aspect  of  our  foregoing 
thought.  Homogeneous  and  democratic  communities  pre- 
cede churches  and  states,  for  the  same  reason,  I  say,  that 
tissues  precede  organs.  Moreover,  once  tissues  and  com- 
munities have  been  formed,  they  become  organic  and  hier- 
archical for  the  same  reason  which  caused  their  formation 
in  the  first  place.  The  growth  of  still  undifferentiated  and 
unutilised  tissue  is  evidence  of  the  peculiar  ambition  and 
eagerness  of  the  germ  which  propagates  itself  in  this  way, 
just  as  the  creation  of  a  club  or  circle  or  fraternity  of 
kindred  spirits  is  evidence  of  the  ambition  of  the  enter- 
prising man  who  originated  it  in  order  to  spread  some  plan 
or  idea  of  his  own.  Now,  the  community  becomes  con- 
solidated into  a  hierarchical  corporation,  and  tissue  be- 
comes organic,  for  the  sake  of  self -propagation  and  self- 
defence  against  existing  or  anticipated  enemies.  For  the 
living  or  for  the  social  being,  to  act  and  function  is  a 
necessary  condition  for  the  conservation  and  extension  of  its 
essential  nature,  for  the  early  development  of  which  it  was 


74  Laws  of  Imitation 

at  first  enough  for  it  to  multiply  uniform  copies  of  itself. 
But  self-propagation  and  not  self-organisation  is  the  prime 
demand  of  the  social  as  well  as  of  the  vital  thing.  Organi- 
sation is  but  the  means  of  which  propagation,  of  which 
generative  or  imitative  repetition,  is  the  end. 

To  sum  up,  to  the  question  which  I  began  by  asking: 
What  is  society?  I  have  answered:  Society  is  imitation. 
We  have  still  to  ask:  What  is  imitation?  Here  the  soci- 
ologist should  yield  to  the  psychologist. 


IV 

i.  Taine  sums  up  the  thought  of  the  most  eminent 
physiologists  when  he  happily  remarks  that  the  brain  is  a 
repeating  organ  for  the  senses  and  is  itself  made  up  of 
elements  which  repeat  one  another.  In  fact,  the  sight  of 
such  a  congery  of  like  cells  and  fibres  makes  any  other  idea 
impossible.  Moreover,  direct  proof  is  at  hand  in  the  nu- 
merous observations  and  experiments  which  show  that  the 
cutting  away  of  one  hemisphere  of  the  brain,  and  even  the 
removal  of  much  of  the  substance  of  the  other,  affects  only 
the  intensity,  without  at  all  changing  the  integrity,  of  the 
intellectual  functions.  The  part  that  was  removed,  there- 
fore, did  not. collaborate  with  the  part  that  remained;  both 
parts  could  only  copy  and  reinforce  each  other.  Their 
relation  was  not  economic  and  utilitarian,  but  imitative  and 
social  in  the  sense  that  I  use  that  term.  Whatever  may  be 
the  cellular  function  which  calls  forth  thought  (a  highly 
complex  vibration,  perhaps?  ),  there  is  no  doubt  that  it  is 
reproduced  and  multiplied  in  the  interior  of  the  brain  every 
moment  of  our  mental  life  and  that  to  every  distinct  per- 
ception a  distinct  cellular  function  corresponds.  The  in- 
definite and  inexhaustible  continuation  of  these  intricate  and 
richly  intersecting  radiations  constitutes  memory  and  habit. 
When  the  multiplying  repetition  in  question  is  confined  to 
the  nervous  system,  we  have  memory;  when  it  spreads 
out  into  the  muscular  system,  we  have  habit.  Memory, 


What  is  a  Society  ?  75 

so  to  speak,  is  a  purely  nervous  habit;  habit  is  both  a  nervous 
and  a  muscular  memory. 

Thus  every  act  of  perception,  in  as  much  as  it  involves 
an  act  of  memory,  which  it  always  does,  implies  a  kind  of 
habit,  an  unconscious  imitation  of  self  by  self.  There  is, 
evidently,  nothing  social  in  this.  When  the  nervous  sys- 
tem is  sufficiently  excited  to  set  in  motion  a  certain  set  of 
muscles,  habit,  properly  speaking,  appears.  It  is  another 
case  of  non-social,  or,  as  I  might  better  say,  of  presocial 
or  subsocial  self-imitation.  This  does  not  mean  that,  as 
alleged,  an  idea  is  an  abortive  act.  Action  is  only  the  fol- 
lowing up  of  an  idea,  the  acquisition  of  a  steadfast  faith. 
Muscle  works  only  for  the  enrichment  of  nerves  and  brain. 

But  if  the  remembered  idea  or  image  was  originally 
lodged  in  the  mind  through  conversation  or  reading,  if  the 
habitual  act  originated  in  the  view  or  knowledge  of  a  similar 
act  on  the  part  of  others,  these  acts  of  memory  and  habit 
are  social  as  well  as  psychological  facts,  and  they  show  us 
the  kind  of  imitation  of  which  I  have  already  spoken  at  such 
length.1  Here  we  have  memory  and  habit  which  are  not  in- 
dividual, but  collective.  Just  as  a  man  does  not  see,  listen, 
walk,  stand,  write,  play  the  flute,  or,  what  is  more,  invent  or 
imagine,  except  by  means  of  many  co-ordinated  muscular 
memories,  so  a  society  could  not  exist  or  change  or  advance 
a  single  step  unless  it  possessed  an  untold  store  of  blind  rou- 
tine and  slavish  imitation  which  was  constantly  being  added 
to  by  successive  generations. 

2.  What  is  the -essential  nature  of  the  suggestion  which 
passes  from  one  cerebral  cell  to  another  and  which  consti- 

1  While  correcting  the  proofs  of  my  second  edition,  I  read  in  the 
Revue  de  inetaphysique  a  brief  review  of  an  article  of  Mr.  Baldwin's 
which  appeared  in  1894  in  Mind  under  the  title  of  Imitation;  A  Chapter 
in  the  Natural  History  of  Consciousness.  "  Mr.  Baldwin."  writes  his 
rfeviewer,  "  wishes  to  define  and  generalise  the  theories  of  Tarde.  Bio- 
logical imitation,  or  imitation  which  is  primarily  subcortical,  is  a  cir- 
cular reaction  of  the  nerves,  that  is,  it  reproduces  its  own  stimulus. 
Psychological  or  cortical  imitation  is  habit  (expressed  in  the  principle 
of  identity)  and  accommodation  (expressed  in  the  principle  of  sufficient 
reason).  It  is,  in  short,  sociological,  plastic,  and  only  secondarily  sub- 
cortical." 


76  Laws  of  Imitation 

tutes  mental  life?  We  do  not  know.1  Do  we  know  any- 
thing more  about  the  essence  of  the  suggestion  which  passes 
from  one  person  to  another  and  which  constitutes  social 
life?  We  do  not;  for  if  we  take  this  phenomenon  in  itself, 
in  its  higher  state  of  purity  and  intensity,  we  find  it  re- 
lated to  one  of  the  most  mysterious  of  facts,  a  fact  which 
is  being  studied  with  intense  curiosity  by  the  baffled  philo- 
sophic alienists  of  the  day,  i.  e.,  somnambulism.2  If  you 
re-read  contemporaneous  works  on  this  subject,  especially 
those  of  Richet,  Binet  and  Fere,  Beaunis,  Bernheim,  Del- 
bceuf,  I  shall  not  seem  fanciful  in  thinking  of  the  social  man 
as  a  veritable  somnambulist.  I  think,  on  the  contrary,  that 
I  am  conforming  to  the  most  rigorous  scientific  method  in 
endeavouring  to  explain  the  complex  by  the  simple,  the  com- 
pound by  the  element,  and  to  throw  light  upon  the  mixed 
and  complicated  social  tie,  as  we  know  it,  by  means  of  a 
social  tie  which  is  very  pure,  which  is  reduced  to  its 
simplest  expression,  and  which  is  so  happily  realised  for  the 
edification  of  the  sociologist  in  a  state  of  somnambulism. 
Let  us  take  the  hypothetical  case  of  a  man  who  has  been  re- 
moved from  every  extra-social  influence,  from  the  direct 
view  of  natural  objects,  and  from  the  instinctive  obses- 
sions of  his  different  senses,  and  who  has  communication 
only  with  those  like  himself  or,  more  especially,  to  simplify 
the  question,  with  one  person  like  himself.  Is  not  such  an 
ideal  subject  the  proper  one  through  which  to  study  by  ex- 
periment and  observation  the  really  essential  characteristics 
of  social  relations,  set  free  in  this  way  from  all  com- 
plicating influences  of  a  natural  or  physical  order?  But 


1  At  the  time  when  the  foregoing  and  the  following  considerations 
first  appeared  in  print,  in  November,  1884,  in  the  Revue  philosophique, 
hypnotic  suggestion  was  but  barely  spoken  of  and  the  idea  of  univer- 
sal social  suggestion,  an  idea  which  has  since  been  so  strongly  em- 
phasised by  Bernheim  and  others,  was  cast  up  against  me  as  an  un- 
tenable   paradox.      Nothing    could    be    commoner    than    this    view    at 
present. 

2  This  old-fashioned  term  shows  that  at  the  time  of  the  first  publica- 
tion of  this  passage  the  word  hypnotism  had  not  as  yet  been  altogether 
substituted  for  somnambulism. 


What  is  a  Society  ?  77 

are  not  hypnotism  and  somnambulism  the  exact  realisation  of 
this  hypothesis?  Then  I  shall  not  excite  surprise  if  I  briefly 
review  the  principal  phenomena  of  these  singular  states  and 
if  I  find  both  magnified  and  diminutised,  both  overt  and 
covert,  forms  of  them  in  social  phenomena.  Through  such 
a  comparison,  we  may  perhaps  come  to  a  better  understand- 
ing of  the  fact  that  is  called  abnormal  by  showing  to  what 
extent  it  is  general,  and  of  the  fact  that  is  general  by  per- 
ceiving its  distinctive  traits  in  high  relief  in  the  apparent 
anomaly. 

The  social  like  the  hypnotic  state  is  only  a  form  of  dream, 
a  dream  of  command  and  a  dream  of  action.  Both  the  som- 
nambulist and  the  social  man  are  possessed  by  the  illusion 
that  their  ideas,  all  of  which  have  been  suggested  to  them, 
are  spontaneous.  To  appreciate  the  truth  of  this  sociolog- 
ical point  of  view,  we  must  not  take  ourselves  into  con- 
sideration, for  should  we  admit  this  truth  about  ourselves, 
we  would  then  be  escaping  from  the  blindness  which  it  af- 
firms; and  in  this  way  a  counter  argument  might  be  made 
out.  Let  us  call  to  mind  some  ancient  people  whose  civili- 
sation differs  widely  from  our  own,  the  Egyptians,  or  Spar- 
tans, or  Hebrews.  Did  not  that  people  think,  like  us,  that 
they  were  autonomous,  although,  in  reality,  they  were  but 
the  unconscious  puppets  whose  strings  were  pulled  by  their 
ancestors  or  political  leaders  or  prophets,  when  they  were 
not  being  pulled  by  their  own  contemporaries?  What 
distinguishes  us  modern  Europeans  from  these  alien  and 
primitive  societies  is  the  fact  that  the  magnetisation  has  be- 
come mutual,  so  to  speak,  at  least  to  a  certain  extent;  and 
because  we,  in  our  democratic  pride,  a  little  exaggerate 
this  reciprocity,  because,  moreover,  forgetting  that  in  be- 
coming mutual,  this  magnetisation,  the  source  of  all  faith 
and  obedience,  has  become  general,  we  err  in  flattering 
ourselves  that  we  have  become  less  credulous  and  docile, 
less  imitative,  in  short,  than  our  ancestors.  This  is  a  fal- 
lacy, and  we  shall  have  to  rid  ourselves  of  it.  But  even  if 
the  aforesaid  notion  were  true,  it  would  nevertheless  be 
clear  that  before  the  relations  of  model  and  copyist,  of  mas- 


78  Laws  of  Imitation 

ter  and  subject,  of  apostle  and  neophyte,  had  become  re- 
ciprocal or  alternative,  as  we  ordinarily  see  them  in  our 
democratic  society,  they  must  of  necessity  have  begun  by 
being  one-sided  and  irreversible.  Hence  castes.  Even  in  the 
most  democratic  societies,  the  one-sidedness  and  irreversi- 
bility  in  question  always  exist  at  the  basis  of  social  imita- 
tions, i.  e.,  in  the  family.  For  the  father  is  and  always  will 
be  his  son's  first  master,  priest,  and  model.  Every  society, 
even  at  present,  begins  in  this  way. 

Therefore,  in  the  beginning  of  every  old  society,  there 
must  have  been,  a  fortiori,  a  great  display  of  authority  ex- 
ercised by  certain  supremely  imperious  and  positive  indi- 
viduals. Did  they  rule  through  terror  and  imposture,  as 
alleged?  This  explanation  is  obviously  inadequate.  They 
ruled  through  their  prestige.  The  example  of  the  magneti- 
ser  alone  can  make  us  realise  the  profound  meaning  of  this 
word.  The  magnetiser  does  not  need  to  lie  or  terrorise  to 
secure  the  blind  belief  and  the  passive  obedience  of  his  mag- 
netised subject.  He  has  prestige — that  tells  the  story. 
That  means,  I  think,  that  there  is  in  the  magnetised  subject 
a  certain  potential  force  of  belief  and  desire  which  is  an- 
chored in  all  kinds  of  sleeping  but  unforgotten  memories,  and 
that  this  force  seeks  expression  just  as  the  water  of  a  lake 
seeks  an  outlet.  The  magnetiser  alone  is  able  through  a 
chain  of  singular  circumstances  to  open  the  necessary  outlet 
to  this  force.  All  forms  of  prestige  are  alike;  they  differ 
only  in  degree.  We  have  prestige  in  the  eyes  of  anyone 
in  so  far  as  we  answer  his  need  of  affirming  or  of  will- 
ing some  given  thing.  Nor  is  it  necessary  for  the  mag- 
netiser to  speak  in  order  to  be  believed  and  obeyed.  He 
need  only  act;  an  almost  imperceptible  gesture  is  suffi- 
cient. 

This  movement,  together  with  the  thought  and  feeling 
which  it  expresses,  is  immediately  reproduced.  Maudsley 
says  that  he  is  not  sure  that  the  somnambulist  is  not  enabled 
to  read  unconsciously  what  is  in  the  mind  through  "  an 
unconscious  imitation  of  the  attitude  and  expression  of  the 
person  whose  exact  muscular  contradictions  are  instinctively 


What  is  a  Society  ?  79 

copied."1  Let  us  observe  that  the  magnetised  subjects  imi- 
tates the  magnetiser,  but  that  the  latter  does  not  imitate  the 
former.  Mutual  imitation,  mutual  prestige  or  sympathy,  in 
the  meaning  of  Adam  Smith,  is  produced  only  in  our  so- 
called  waking  life  and  among  people  who  seem  to  exercise  no 
magnetic  influence  over  one  another.  If,  then,  I  have  put 
prestige,  and  not  sympathy,  at  the  foundation  and  origin  of 
society,  it  is  because,  as  I  have  said  before,  the  unilateral 
must  have  preceded  the  reciprocal.2  Without  an  age  of  au- 
thority, however  surprising  this  fact  may  be,  an  age  of  com- 
parative fraternity  would  never  have  existed.  But,  to  return, 
why  should  we  really  marvel  at  the  one-sided,  passive  imi- 
tation of  the  somnambulist?  Any  act  of  any  one  of  our 
fellows  inspires  us  who  are  lookers-on  with  the  more  or  less 
irrational  idea  of  imitation.  If  we  at  times  resist  this  tend- 
ency, it  is  because  it  is  neutralised  by  some  antagonistic 
suggestions  of  memory  or  perception.  Since  the  somnam- 
bulist is  for  the  time  being  deprived  of  this  power  of  resist- 
ance, he  can  illustrate  for  us  the  imitative  quiescence  of  the 
social  being  in  so  far  as  he  is  social,  i.  e.,  in  so  far  as  he  has 
relations  exclusively  with  his  fellows  and,  especially,  with 
one  of  his  fellows. 

If  the  social  man  were  not  at  the  same  time  a  natural  be- 
ing, open  and  sensitive  to  the  impressions  of  external  na- 
ture and  of  alien  societies,  he  would  never  be  capable  of 
change.  Like  associates  would  remain  forever  incapable 
of  changing  spontaneously  the  type  of  traditional  ideas  and 
desires  which  had  been  impressed  upon  them  by  the  conven- 
tional teaching  of  their  parents,  priests,  or  leaders.  Cer- 
tain peoples  have  been  known  to  approach  singularly  close 
to  this  condition.  Nascent  communities,  like  young  chil- 
dren, are,  in  general,  indifferent  and  insensible  to  all  which 

1  The  Pathology  of  Mind  [p.  69.  Henry  Maudsley,  M.  D.,  New 
York,  1890.  The  italics  are  the  author's. — TV.]. 

8  On  this  point  I  need  correction.  Sympathy  is  certainly  the  primary 
source  of  sociability  and  the  hidden  or  overt  soul  of  every  kind  of 
imitation,  even  of  imitation  which  is  envious  and  calculating,  even  of 
imitation  of  an  enemy.  Only,  it  is  certain  that  sympathy  itself  begins 
by  being  one-sided  instead  of  mutual. 


8o  Laws  of  Imitation 

does  not  concern  man  or  the  kind  of  man  whom  they  re- 
semble, the  man  of  their  own  race  or  tribe.1  "  The  som- 
nambulist sees  and  hears,"  says  A.  Maury,  "  only  what  enters 
into  the  preoccupations  of  his  dream,"  In  other  words,  all 
his  power  of  belief  and  desire  is  concentrated  on  a  single 
point.  Is  not  this  the  exact  effect  of  obedience  and  imita- 
tion through  fascination?  Is  not  fascination  a  genuine 
neurosis,  a  kind  of  unconscious  polarisation  of  love  and 
faith? 

Now  many  great  men  from  Rameses  to  Alexander,  from 
Alexander  to  Mahomet,  from  Mahomet  to  Napoleon,  have 
thus  polarised  the  soul  of  their  people!  How  often  has  a 
prolonged  gaze  upon  the  brilliant  point  of  one  man's  glory 
or  genius  thrown  a  whole  people  into  a  state  of  catalepsy ! 
The  torpor  that  appears  in  somnambulism  is,  as  we  know, 
only  superficial;  it  masks  an  intense  excitement.  This  is 
the  reason  why  the  somnambulist  does  not  hesitate  to  per- 
form great  feats  of  strength  and  skill.  A  similar  phenome- 
non occurred  at  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century 
when  military  France  fell  into  a  passive  and,  at  the  same 
time,  feverish  state  of  mingled  torpor  and  excitement  and 
performed  prodigies  in  obedience  to  the  gesture  of  its  im- 
perial fascinator.  There  is  nothing  better  fitted  than  this  ata- 
vistic phenomenon  to  plunge  us  into  the  remote  past,  to  make 
us  realise  the  influence  which  must  have  been  exerted  upon 
their  contemporaries  by  those  great  semi-mythical  persons 
to  whom  all  civilisations  trace  their  origin  and  to  whom 
their  legends  attribute  the  revelation  of  all  their  knowledge, 
laws,  and  industries.  Cannes  in  Babylon,  Quetz-alcoatl  in 
Mexico,  the  divine  pre-Menes  dynasties  in  Egypt,  etc.,  are 
cases  in  point.2  Under  close  observation,  all  these  king- 

1  Science,  then,  is  the  source  of  every  social  revolution.    It  is  this 
extra-social   research  which  opens  for  us  the  windows  of  the   social 
phalanstery  in  which  we  live  and  lets  in  the  light  of  the  universe.    How 
many  phantoms  are  scattered  by  this  light !     But  then,  too,  how  many 
perfectly  preserved  mummies  it  crumbles  into  dust ! 

2  In  his  profound  Asiatic  studies  of  the  religious  and  social  customs 
of  the  Far  East,  Sir  Alfred  Lyall  (who  seems  to  have  studied  on  the 
spot  the  actual  formation  of  tribes  and  clans  in  certain  parts  of  India) 


What  is  a  Society  ?  8 1 

gods  who  figure  in  mythologies  and  dynasties  are  seen  to  be 
inventors  or  importers  of  foreign  inventions.  They  are,  in 
a  word,  initiators.  Thanks  to  the  deep  and  intense  stupor 
caused  by  their  first  miracles,  each  of  their  assertions  and 
commands  opened  out  an  immense  vent  to  the  vast,  vague, 
and  impotent  aspirations,  to  the  blind  and  futile  desires  for 
faith  and  activity,  which  they  had  called  into  being. 

At  present,  when  we  speak  of  obedience,  we  mean  a  con- 
scious and  voluntary  act.  But  primitive  obedience  was  far 
different.  When  the  subject  weeps  at  the  bidding  of  the 
hypnotist,  it  is  not  the  ego  only,  but  the  whole  organism, 
that  obeys.  The  obedience  of  crowds  and  armies  to  their 
demagogues  and  captains  is,  at  times,  almost  equally 
strange.  And  so  is  their  credulity.  "  It  is  a  curious 
sight,"  says  M.  Charles  Richet,  "to  see  a  somnambulist  make 
gestures  of  distaste  and  nausea  and  experience  real  suf- 
focation when  an  empty  bottle  is  put  under  his  nose  and  he 
is  told  that  it  contains  ammonia,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  to 
see  him  inhale  ammonia  without  showing  the  least  discom- 
fort when  he  is  told  that  it  is  pure  water."  We  have  a 
strange  analogy  in  the  artificial,  absurd,  and  extravagant, 
but  none  the  less  deep,  active,  and  obstinate,  beliefs  of  an- 
cient peoples,  of  those,  indeed,  who  were  the  freest  and  the 
most  cultivated  of  all  the  ancients;  and  this,  too,  long  after 

attributes  a  preponderating  influence  in  primitive  societies  to  the  indi- 
vidual action  of  men  of  note.  "  To  borrow  Carlyle's  words,"  he  says, 
"the  perplexed  jungle  of  primitive  society  springs  out  of  many  roots, 
but  the  hero  is  the  tap-root  from  which  in  a  great  degree  all  the  rest 
were  nourished  and  grown.  In  Europe,  where  the  landmarks  of  nation- 
alities are  fixed,  and  the  fabric  of  civilisation  firmly  entrenched,  people 
are  often  inclined  to  treat  as  legendary  the  enormous  part  in  the 
foundation  of  their  race  or  institutions  attributed  by  primitive  races 
to  their  heroic  ancestor.  Yet  it  may  be  difficult  to  overrate  the  impres- 
sion which  must  have  been  produced  by  daring  and  successful  exploits 
upon  the  primitive  world,  where  the  free  impulsive  play  of  a  great 
man's  forces  is  little  controlled  by  artificial  barriers.  ...  In  such 
times,  whether  a  group  which  is  formed  upon  the  open  surface  of 
society  shall  spread  out  into  a  clan  or  tribe,  or  break  up  prematurely, 
seems  to  depend  very  much  upon  the  strength  and  energy  of  its 
founder  "  [Asiatic  Studies,  Religious  and  Social,  p.  168 ;  Sir  Alfred  C. 
Lyall,  K.  C.  B.,  C.  I.  E.,  second  edition,  London,  1884. — TV.]. 


82  Laws  of  Imitation 

their  first  phase  of  autocratic  theocracy  had  passed  away. 
Were  not  the  most  abominable  monstrosities,  Greek  love,  for 
example,  deemed  worthy  of  the  songs  of  Anacreon  and 
Theocritus  and  of  the  philosophy  of  Plato?  Were  not  ser- 
pents, cats,  bulls,  and  cows  worshipped  by  prostrate  popula- 
tions ?  Were  not  mysteries,  metempsychoses,  dogmas  in  ab- 
solute contradiction  to  the  direct  evidence  of  the  senses,  not 
to  speak  of  such  absurdities  as  the  arts  of  augury,  astrology, 
and  sorcery,  unanimously  believed  in?  On  the  other  hand, 
were  not  the  most  natural  sentiments  repressed  with  horror, 
paternal  love,  for  example,  in  communities  where  the  uncle 
took  precedence  over  the  father,  or  sexual  jealousy  among 
tribes  whose  wives  were  owned  in  common?  Has  not  the 
most  impressive  beauty  of  nature  or  art  been  overlooked  or 
condemned,  and  this  even  in  modern  times,  because  it  vio- 
lated the  taste  of  the  period  ?  The  attitude  of  the  Romans  to- 
wards the  picturesqueness  of  the  Alps  or  Pyrenees,  or  that 
of  our  own  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries  towards 
the  masterpieces  of  Shakespeare  or  the  art  of  Holland,  is  an 
example.  In  short,  are  not  the  clearest  experiences  and 
observations  controverted  and  the  most  palpable  truths  ar- 
raigned, whenever  they  come  into  opposition  with  the  tra- 
ditional ideas  that  are  the  antique  offspring  of  prestige  and 
faith? 

Civilised  peoples  flatter  themselves  with  thinking  that 
they  have  escaped  from  this  dogmatic  slumber.  Their 
error  can  be  explained.  The  oftener  a  person  has  been 
magnetised,  the  easier  and  quicker  is  it  for  him  to  be  re- 
magnetised.  This  fact  shows  us  how  it  is  that  societies 
come  to  imitate  one  another  with  increasing  ease  and  ra- 
pidity. As  they  become  civilised  and,  consequently,  more 
and  more  imitative,  they  also  become  less  and  less  aware 
that  they  are  imitating.  In  this  particular,  mankind  is  like 
the  individual  man.  A  child  is,  unquestionably,  a  true  som- 
nambulist; the  older  it  grows,  the  more  complex  its  dream 
becomes,  until  it  thinks  that,  because  of  this  very  complex- 
ity, it  has  been  awakened.  But  the  child  errs.  When  a 
ten-  or  twelve-year-old  boy  leaves  his  family  for  school,  he 


What  is  a  Society?  83 

seems  to  himself  to  have  become  demagnetised,  to  have  been 
aroused  from  his  dream  of  parental  respect  and  admiration. 
Whereas,  in  reality,  he  becomes  still  more  prone  to  ad- 
miration and  imitation  in  his  submission  to  the  ascendency 
of  one  of  his  masters  or,  better  still,  of  some  prestigeful 
classmate.  The  alleged  awakening  is  only  a  change  or 
piling  up  of  slumbers.  In  the  substitution  of  fashion-mag- 
netisation for  custom-magnetisation,  the  usual  symptom  of 
incipient  social  revolution,  we  have  an  analogous,  although 
magnified,  phenomenon. 

We  should  also  observe,  however,  that  as  the  suggestions 
of  example  become  more  numerous  and  diversified  around 
an  individual,  each  of  them  loses  in  intensity,  and  the  in- 
dividual becomes  freer  to  determine  his  choice  according  to 
the  preference  of  his  own  character,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
on  the  other,  according  to  certain  logical  laws  which  I  will 
discuss  elsewhere.  Thus  it  is  certain  that  the  progress  of 
civilisation  renders  subjection  to  imitation  at  once  more 
personal  and  more  rational.  We  are  just  as  much  enslaved 
as  our  ancestors  by  the  examples  of  our  environment,  but 
we  make  a  better  use  of  them  through  our  more  logical  and 
more  individual  choice,  one  adapted  to  our  own  ends  and  to 
our  particular  nature.  And  yet,  as  we  shall  see,  this  does 
not  keep  extra-logical  and  prestigeful  influences  from  al- 
ways playing  a  very  considerable  part. 

This  part  is  remarkably  potent  and  interesting  in  the  case 
of  an  individual  who  suddenly  passes  from  an  impoverished 
environment  to  one  rich  in  all  kinds  of  suggestions.  Then 
there  is  no  need  of  such  a  brilliant  and  striking  object  as 
personal  glqry  or  genius  to  bewitch  him  and  to  put  him  to 
sleep.  The  college  freshman,  the  Japanese  traveller  in  Eu- 
rope, the  countryman  in  Paris,  are  as  stupefied  as  if  they 
were  in  a  state  of  catalepsy.  Their  attention  is  so  bent  upon 
everything  they  see  and  hear,  especially  upon  the  actions  of 
the  human  beings  around  them,  that  it  is  absolutely  with- 
drawn from  everything  they  have  previously  seen  and  heard, 
or  even  thought  of  or  done.  It  is  not  that  their  memory 
is  destroyed,  for  it  has  never  been  as  alert  or  as  quick  to  re- 


84  Laws  of  Imitation 

spond  to  the  slightest  word  which  recalls  to  them,  with  a 
wealth  of  hallucinating  detail,  their  distant  country,  their 
home,  or  their  previous  existence.  But  memory  becomes 
absolutely  paralysed;  all  its  own  spontaneity  is  lost.  In 
this  singular  condition  of  intensely  concentrated  attention, 
of  passive  and  vivid  imagination,  these  stupefied  and  fevered 
beings  inevitably  yield  themselves  to  the  magical  charm  of 
their  new  environment.  They  believe  everything  that  they 
see,  and  they  continue  in  this  state  for  a  long  time.  It  is 
always  more  fatiguing  to  think  for  one's  self  than  to  think 
through  the  minds  of  others.  Besides,  whenever  a  man 
lives  in  an  animated  environment,  in  a  highly  strung  and 
diversified  society  which  is  continually  supplying  him  with 
fresh  sights,  with  new  books  and  music  and  with  constantly 
renewed  conversation,  he  gradually  refrains  from  all  in- 
tellectual effort;  his  mind,  growing  more  and  more  stulti- 
fied and,  at  the  same  time,  more  and  more  excited,  be- 
comes, as  I  have  said,  somnambulistic.  Such  a  state  of 
mind  is  characteristic  of  many  city  dwellers.  The  noise 
and  movement  of  the  streets,  the  display  of  shop-windows, 
and  the  wild  and  unbridled  rush  of  existence  affect  them 
like  magnetic  passes.  Now,  is  not  city  life  a  concentrated 
and  exaggerated  type  of  social  life? 

If  these  persons  end  by  becoming  examples  themselves, 
this  also  is  due  to  imitation.  Suppose  a  somnambulist 
should  imitate  his  medium  to  the  point  of  becoming  a  me- 
dium himself  and  magnetising  a  third  person,  who,  in  turn, 
would  imitate  him,  and  so  on,  indefinitely.  Is  not  social 
life  this  very  thing?  Terraces  of  consecutive  and  con- 
nected magnetisations  are  the  rule;  the  mutual  magnetisa- 
tion of  which  I  spoke  above  is  exceptional.  In  general,  a 
naturally  prestigeful  man  will  stimulate  thousands  of  people 
to  copy  him  in  every  particular,  even  in  that  of  his  prestige, 
thereby  enabling  them  to  influence,  in  turn,  millions  of  in- 
ferior men.  It  is  only  at  rare  moments,  after  the  movement 
down  the  scale  is  spent,  that  an  inverse  movement  takes 
place  and  that,  in  a  period  of  democracy,  millions  of  men 
collectively  fascinate  and  tyrannise  over  their  quondam 


What  is  a  Society  ?  85 

mediums.  If  every  society  stands  forth  as  a  hierarchy,  it 
is  because  every  society  reveals  the  terracing  of  which  I 
have  just  spoken  and  to  which,  in  order  to  be  stable,  its 
hierarchy  must  correspond. 

Besides,  social  somnambulism,  as  I  have  said  already,  is 
not  brought  about  through  fear  or  the  power  of  conquest, 
but  through  admiration  and  a  sense  of  brilliant  and  irksome 
superiority.  And  so  it  sometimes  happens  that  the  con- 
queror is  magnetised  by  the  conquered.  Just  as  a  savage 
chief  or  a  social  upstart  is  all  eyes  and  ears,  is  charmed  or 
intimidated  in  spite  of  his  pride,  in  the  midst  of  a  great  city, 
or  in  a  fashionable  drawing  room.  But  he  sees  and  hears 
only  what  astonishes  him  and  holds  him  captive;  for  a  sin- 
gular mixture  of  anaesthesia  and  hvperses.thesia  of  the  senses, 
is  the  dominant  characteristic  of  somnambulists.  Conse- 
quently, they  copy  all  the  usages,  the  language,  the  accent, 
etc.,  of  their  new  environment.  The  Germans  did  this  in  the 
Roman  world.  They  forgot  German  and  spoke  Latin. 
They  composed  hexameters.  They  bathed  in  marble  baths. 
They  dubbed  themselves  patricians.  The  Romans  them- 
selves did  this  in  the  Athens  which  they  had  conquered. 
The  Hyksos  conquerors  of  Egypt  were  subjugated  by  its 
civilisation. 

But  is  there  any  need  to  ransack  history  for  examples? 
Let  us  look  nearer  home.  The  kind  of  momentary  paral- 
ysis of  mind,  tongue,  and  arm,  the  profound  agitation  of  the 
whole  being  and  the  lack  of  self-possession  which  is  called 
intimidation,  deserves  special  study.  The  intimidated 
man  loses,  under  the  gaze  of  another  person,  his  self-posses- 
sion and  is  wont  to  become  manageable  and  malleable  by 
others.  He  feels  this  and  struggles  against  it,  but  his  only 
success  lies  in  bringing  himself  to  an  awkward  standstill;  he 
is  still  strong  enough  to  neutralise  any  external  impetus,  but 
not  strong  enough  to  regain  the  mastery  of  his  own  power 
of  motion.  It  will  be  admitted,  perhaps,  that  this  singular 
state,  a  state  that  we  have  all  more  or  less  passed  through  at 
a  certain  age,  has  a  great  many  points  in  common  with  som- 
nambulism. But  when  timidity  is  routed,  when  one  is  put 


86  Laws  of  Imitation 

at  his  ease,  as  they  say,  has  demagnetisation  set  in?  Far 
from  that,  to  be  put  at  one's  ease  in  a  given  society  is  to 
adopt  its  manners  and  fashions,  to  speak  its  dialect,  to  copy 
its  gestures,  in  short,  to  finally  abandon  one's  self  unresist- 
ingly to  the  many  surrounding  currents  of  subtle  influences 
against  which  one  first  struggled  in  vain,  and  to  abandon 
one's  self  so  completely  that  all  consciousness  of  this 
self-abandonment  is  lost.  Timidity  is  a  conscious  and,  con- 
sequently, an  incomplete  magnetisation.  It  may  be  com- 
pared to  that  drowsy  state  which  precedes  the  profound 
slumber  in  which  the  somnambulist  moves  and  speaks.  It 
is  a  nascent  social  state  which  accompanies  every  transi- 
tion from  one  society  to  another,  or  from  the  limits  of  the 
family  to  a  wider  social  life. 

It  is  for  this  reason,  perhaps,  that  so-called  rough  dia- 
monds, people  who  strongly  rebel  against  assimilation  and 
who  are  really  unsociable,  remain  timid  during  their  whole 
life.  They  are  but  partially  subject  to  somnambulism.  On 
the  other  hand,  are  not  people  who  never  feel  awkward 
and  embarrassed,  who  never  experience  any  real  timidity 
upon  entering  a  drawing  room  or  a  lecture  hall,  or  any  cor- 
responding stupor  in  taking  up  a  science  or  art  for  the  first 
time  (for  the  trouble  produced  by  entrance  into  a  new  call- 
ing whose  difficulties  frighten  one  and  whose  prescribed 
methods  do  violence  to  one's  old  habits,  may  be  perfectly 
well  compared  to  intimidation),  are  not  such  people  sociable 
in  the  highest  degree?  Are  they  not  excellent  copyists,  i.  e., 
devoid  of  any  particular  avocation  or  any  controlling 
ideas,  and  do  they  not  possess  the  eminently  Chinese  or 
Japanese  faculty  of  speedily  adapting  themselves  to  their 
environment?  In  their  readiness  to  fall  asleep,  are  they 
not  somnambulists  of  the  first  order?  Intimidation  plays 
an  immense  part  in  society  under  the  name  of  Respect. 
Everyone  will  acknowledge  this,  and,  although  the  part  is 
sometimes  misinterpreted,  it  is  never  in  the  least  exagger- 
ated. Respect  is  neither  unmixed  fear  nor  unmixed  love, 
nor  is  it  merely  the  combination  of  the  two,  although  it  is  a 
fear  which  is  beloved  by  him  who  entertains  it.  Respect  is, 


What  is  a  Society  ?  87 

primarily,  the  impression  of  an  example  by  one  person  upon 
another  who  is  psychologically  polarised.  Of  course  we 
must  distinguish  the  respect  of  which  we  are  conscious 
from  that  which  we  dissemble  to  ourselves  under  an  as- 
sumed contempt.  But  taking  this  distinction  into  account, 
it  is  evident  that  whomsoever  we  imitate  we  respect,  and 
that  whomsoever  we  respect  we  imitate  or  tend  to  imitate. 
There  is  no  surer  sign  of  a  displacement  of  social  authority 
than  deviations  in  the  current  of  these  examples.  The  man 
or  the  woman  of  the  world  who  reflects  the  slang  or  undress 
of  the  labourer  or  the  intonation  of  the  actress,  has  more 
respect  and  deference  for  the  person  copied  than  he  or  she 
is  himself  or  herself  aware.  Now  what  society  would  last 
for  a  single  day  without  the  general  and  continuous  circu- 
lation of  both  the  above  forms  of  respect? 

But  I  must  not  dwell  any  longer  upon  the  above  compari- 
son. At  any  rate,  I  hope  that  I  have  at  least  made  my  reader 
feel  that  to  thoroughly  understand  the  essential  social  fact, 
as  I  perceive  it,  knowledge  of  the  infinitely  subtle  facts  of 
mind  is  necessary,  and  that  the  roots  of  even  what  seems  to 
be  the  simplest  and  most  superficial  kind  of  sociology  strike 
far  down  into  the  depths  of  the  most  inward  and  hidden 
parts  of  psychology  and  physiology.  Society  is  imitation 
and  imitation  is  a  kind  of  somnambulism.  This  is  the 
epitome  of  this  chapter.  As  for  the  second  part  of  the  prop- 
osition, I  beg  the  reader's  indulgence  for  any  exaggeration 
I  may  have  been  guilty  of.  I  must  also  remove  a  possible 
objection.  It  may  be  urged  that  submission  to  some  as- 
cendency does  not  always  mean  following  the  example  of 
the  person  whom  we  trust  and  obey.  But  does  not  belief  in 
anyone  always  mean  belief  in  that  which  he  believes  or 
seems  to  believe?  Does  not  obedience  to  someone  mean 
that  we  will  that  which  he  wills  or  seems  to  will  ?  Inven- 
tions are  not  made  to  order,  nor  are  discoveries  under- 
taken as  a  result  of  persuasive  suggestion.  Consequently, 
to  be  credulous  and  docile,  and  to  be  so  as  pre-eminently  as 
the  somnambulist  and  the  social  man,  is  to  be,  primarily, 
imitative.  To  innovate,  to  discover,  to  awake  for  an  instant 


88  Laws  of  Imitation 

from  his  dream  of  home  and  country,  the  individual  must 
escape,  for  the  time  being,  from  his  social  surroundings. 
Such  unusual  audacity  makes  him  super-social  rather  than 
social. 

One  word  more.  We  have  just  seen  that  memory  as 
well  as  habit,  or  muscular  memory,  as  I  have  already  called 
it,  is  very  keen  in  the  case  of  somnambulists  or  quasi-som- 
nambulists,  while  their  credulity  and  docility  are  extreme. 
In  other  words  their  imitation  of  self  (memory  and  habit 
are,  in  fact,  nothing  more  than  this)  is  as  remarkable  as 
their  imitation  of  others.  Is  there  no  connection  between 
these  two  facts?  "  It  cannot  be  too  clearly  apprehended," 
Maudsley  says  emphatically,  "  that  there  is  a  sort  of  innate 
tendency  to  mimicry  in  the  nervous  system."  *  If  this 
tendency  is  inherent  in  the  final  nerve  elements,  we  may 
be  permitted  to  conjecture  that  the  relations  between  the 
cells  within  the  same  brain  have  some  analogy  to  the  singu- 
lar relation  between  two  brains,  one  of  which  fascinates  the 
other,  and  that  this  relation  consists  of  a  special  polarisa- 
tion in  the  latter  of  the  belief  and  desire  which  are  stored 
up  in  each  of  its  elements.  In  this  way,  perhaps,  certain 
curious  facts  might  be  explained,  the  fact,  for  example,  that 
in  dreams  there  is  a  spontaneous  arrangement  of  images 
which  combine  together  according  to  some  inward  logic, 
and  which  are  evidently  under  the  control  of  one  of  them 
which  imposes  itself  upon  the  others,  and  gives  them  their 
tone  through  the  superiority,  undoubtedly,  of  the  nervous 
element  in  which  it  was  contained  and  from  which  it 
issued.2 

1  [Mental  Pathology,  p.  68.— TV.] 

2  This  view  agrees  with  the  master  thought  developed  by  M.  Paul- 
ban  in  his  profoundly  thoughtful  work  upon  mental  activity.     (Alcan, 
1889.) 


CHAPTER  IV 

ARCHAEOLOGY    AND    STATISTICS 

WHAT  is  history?  This  is  the  first  question  which  pre- 
sents itself  to  us.  The  most  natural  way  for  us  to  answer 
it  and,  at  the  same  time,  formulate  the  laws  of  imitation,  is 
by  turning  our  attention  to  two  very  distinct  lines  of  re- 
search which  have  been  highly  honoured  in  recent  days,  the 
study  of  archaeology  and  the  study  of  statistics.  I  will  show 
that  as  these  studies  have  grown  in  value  and  fruitfulness,  a 
point  of  view  similar  to  mine  in  the  matter  of  social  phe- 
nomena has  been  unconsciously  adopted  in  them  and  that,  in 
this  respect,  the  general  conclusions  and  salient  points  of 
these  two  sciences,  or,  rather,  of  these  two  very  dissimilar 
methods,  are  seen  to  be  remarkably  similar.  Let  us  first 
consider  the  subject  of  archaeology. 


When  human  skulls  and  implements  of  various  kinds 
happen  to  be  found  in  some  Gallo-Roman  tomb,  or  in  some 
cave  belonging  to  the  stone  age,  the  archaeologist  keeps  the 
implements  for  himself  and  hands  over  the  skulls  to  the  an- 
thropologist. The  anthropologist  studies  races,  the  archae- 
ologist, civilisations.  It  is  useless  for  them  to  lock  arms 
with  each  other;  they  are,  nevertheless,  radically  unlike,  as 
much  as  a  horizontal  line  is  unlike,  even  at  the  point  of  in- 
tersection, the  vertical  line  which  may  be  erected  upon  it. 
The  anthropologist  utterly  ignores  the  biography  of  the  Cro- 
Magnon  or  Neanderthal  man  whom  he  is  examining.  He 
cares  nothing  at  all  for  this;  his  one  aim  is  to  distinguish 

89 


90  Laws  of  Imitation 

the  same  racial  character  in  one  skull  or  skeleton  after  an- 
other. Although  this  very  racial  character  has  been  re- 
produced and  multiplied  through  heredity  from  some  indi- 
vidual peculiarity,  still  it  is  impossible  for  the  anthropologist 
to  attempt  to  trace  this  back.  The  archaeologist  likewise  ig- 
nores, three-quarters  of  the  time,  the  names  of  the  dead 
whose  ashes  remain  to  be  deciphered  like  an  enigma  and 
looks  for  and  sees  in  them  only  the  artistic  or  industrial 
process,  or  the  characteristic  desires  and  beliefs,  or  the  rites, 
dogmas,  words,  and  grammatical  forms  that  are  revealed  by 
the  contents  of  their  tombs.  And  yet  all  these  things  were 
transmitted  and  propagated  by  imitation  from  some  single 
and  almost  always  unknown  inventor  for  whose  radiant  in- 
vention every  one  of  the  anonymous  unearthed  objects  was 
but  an  ephemeral  vehicle,  a  mere  place  for  growth. 

The  deeper  the  past  in  which  the  archaeologist  buries  him- 
self the  more  he  loses  sight  of  personalities.  Even  manu- 
scripts begin  to  be  scarce  prior  to  the  twelfth  century. 
Besides,  manuscripts,  which  are,  for  the  most  part,  nothing 
but  official  records,  interest  him  primarily  because  of  their 
impersonal  character.  Then,  nothing  but  buildings  or  their 
ruins  and,  finally,  nothing  but  a  few  remains  of  pottery  and 
bronze,  of  flint  weapons  and  implements,  survive  for  archae- 
ological guess-work.  And  what  a  wonderful  treasure  of 
facts  and  inferences,  of  invaluable  information,  has  been 
extracted  in  this  humble  shape  from  the  earth's  entrails 
wherever  the  picks  of  modern  excavators  have  penetrated, 
in  Italy,  in  Greece,  in  Egypt,  in  Asia  Minor,  in  Mesopota- 
mia, in  America !  There  was  a  time  when  archaeology,  like 
numismatics,  was  only  the  servant  of  pragmatic  history, 
when  the  only  merit  that  would  have  been  recognised  in  the 
present  work  of  the  Egyptologists  was  its  confirmation  of 
the  fragments  of  Manetho.  At  present,  however,  the  roles 
are  inverted.  Historians  are  nothing  more  than  subordi- 
nate guides,  auxiliaries  of  those  excavators  who,  revealing  to 
us  the  things  about  which  the  former  are  silent,  give  us  the  de- 
tails, so  to  speak,  of  the  fauna  and  flora,  of  the  hidden  wealth 
of  life  and  of  the  harmonious  regularities  of  those  lands 


Archeology  and  Statistics  91 

that  are  so  picturesquely  described  by  historic  landscapists. 
Through  the  archaeologists  we  know  what  particular  group 
of  ideas,  of  professional  or  hieratic  secrets,  of  peculiar  de- 
sires, constituted  the  individual  whom  the  annalists  call  a 
Roman  or  an  Egyptian  or  a  Persian.  Below  the  surface,  in 
some  way,  of  the  violent  and  so-called  culminating  events 
that  are  spoken  of  as  conquests,  invasions,  or  revolutions, 
the  archaeologists  show  us  the  daily  and  indefinite  drift  and 
piling  up  of  the  sediments  of  true  history,  the  stratifications 
of  successive  and  contagion-spread  discoveries. 

The  archaeological  point  of  view,  therefore,  is  the  best 
from  which  to  see  that  violent  events  which  are  in  them- 
selves dissimilar,  and  whose  series  are  as  irregular  as  moun- 
tain ridges,  have  merely  served  to  aid  or  hinder,  to  restrict 
or  enlarge,  the  quiet  and  even  spread  of  various  given  ideas 
of  genius  in  certain  more  or  less  badly  defined  territories. 
And  just  as  Thucydides,  Herodotus,  and  Livy  become 
mere  cicerones,  faithful  or  false  as  it  happens,  to  the  anti- 
quarians, so  the  heroes  of  the  historians,  their  generals, 
statesmen,  and  legislators,  may  pass  for  the  unconscious 
and,  at  times,  refractory  servants  of  the  numberless  and  ob- 
scure inventors  of  bronze,  of  the  art  of  weaving  or  writing, 
of  oar  and  sail  and  plough,  whose  very  date  and  birthplace 
cost  the  antiquarians  even  more  effort  to  discover  and  locate 
than  their  names.  Of  course  there  is  no  doubt  but  that 
great  warriors  and  statesmen  have  themselves  had  new  and 
brilliant  ideas,  true  inventions  in  the  big  sense  of  the  word, 
but  their  inventions  were  bound  not  to  be  imitated.1  They 
may  be  military  plans  or  parliamentary  measures,  laws,  de- 
crees, or  political  revolutions,  but  they  take  no  place  in 
history  unless  they  promote  or  retard  other  kinds  of  inven- 
tions which  are  already  known  and  which  are  destined  to 
be  peacefully  imitated.  History  would  pay  no  more  at- 
tention to  the  manoeuvres  at  Marathon,  at  Arabela,  or  at 
Austerlitz  than  to  so  many  skilful  games  of  chess,  were  it 

1  If  they  are  imitated,  it  is  against  the  wish  of  their  authors,  as  was 
the  case,  for  example,  with  the  turning  movement  of  Ulm  which  the 
Germans  copied  so  skilfully  against  the  nephew  of  Napoleon. 


92  Laws  of  Imitation 

not  for  the  well-known  influence  which  these  victories  had 
respectively  over  the  development  of  the  arts  of  Greece  in 
Asia,  and  of  French  institutions  in  Europe. 

History,  as  it  is  commonly  understood,  is,  in  short,  only 
the  co-operation  or  opposition  of  certain  non-imitable  inven- 
tions of  merely  temporary  usefulness  with  or  to  a  number  of 
useful  and  imitable  inventions.  As  for  the  direct  causation 
of  the  latter  by  the  former,  it  would  be  as  impossible  as  the 
creation  of  a  lizard  or"  the  development  of  the  wing  of  a  con- 
dor through  an  upheaval  of  the  Andes  or  Pyrenees.  It  is 
true  that  the  indirect  action  of  the  former  is  considerable, 
for,  as  an  invention  is,  after  all,  merely  the  singular  inter- 
section of  heterogeneous  imitations  in  one  brain, — an  excep- 
tional brain,  to  be  sure. — everything  that  opens  fresh  outlets 
to  the  radiations  of  different  imitations  tends  to  multiply 
the  chances  of  such  intersections.1 

Here  I  shall  open  a  parenthesis  in  order  to  anticipate  an 
objection.  It  may  be  urged  that  I  am  exaggerating  the 
social  importance  both  of  the  sheepish  tendency  to  imitate 
and  of  the  inventive  imagination  of  mankind.  Man  does 
not  invent  for  the  pleasure  of  inventing,  but  for  the  satis- 
faction of  some  want  that  he  experiences.  Genius  takes 
its  own  time  to  unfold.  Consequently,  it  is  the  series  of 
wants,  not  the  series  of  inventions,  which  is  the  pre-em- 
inently notable  thing;  and  civilisation  consists  as  much  in 
the  gradual  multiplication  and  replacing  of  wants  as  in  the 
gradual  accumulation  and  substitution  of  arts  and  indus- 
tries. On  the  other  hand,  man  does  not  always  imitate  for 
the  pleasure  of  imitating  either  his  ancestors  or  his  foreign 
contemporaries.  Out  of  all  those  inventions,  discoveries, 
or  theories  which  solicit  his  imitation  or  adhesion  (his  in- 
tellectual imitation),  he  for  the  most  part,  or  more  and 
more,  imitates  and  adopts  only  those  which  seem  to  him  to 

1  As  an  example  of  the  indirect  influence  of  imitation  upon  invention, 
we  know  that  as  a  result  of  the  growing  fashion  in  France  of  taking 
water-cures,  the  advantage  (?)  of  discovering  new  mineral  springs  was 
realised,  and  between  the  years  1838  and  1863  the  waters  of  two  hun- 
dred and  thirty-four  new  springs  were  discovered  or  collected. 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  93 

be  useful  and  true.  It  is,  then,  a  search  for  utility  and 
truth,  not  a  tendency  towards  imitation,  which  characterises 
the  social  man,  and  it  were  much  better  to  define  civilisation 
as  the  growing  utilisation  or  verification  of.  arts  or  ideas 
than  as  the  growing  assimilation  of  muscular  and  cerebral 
activities. 

I  answer  by  suggesting  in  the  first  place  that,  since  the 
desire  for  cannot  precede  the  notion  of  an  object,  no  social 
desire  can  be  prior  to  the  invention  by  which  the  conception 
of  the  commodity,  or  article,  or  service  able  to  satisfy  it, 
was  made  possible.  It  is  true  that  the  invention  was  the  re- 
sponse to  a  vague  desire,  that,  for  example,  the  idea  of  the 
electric  telegraph  solved  the  long-standing  problem  of  a  more 
rapid  epistolary  form  of  communication.  But  it  is  in  becom- 
ing specific  in  this  way  that  such  a  desire  is  spread  and 
strengthened,  that  it  is  born  into  the  social  world.  Besides, 
was  it  not  developed  itself  by  some  past,  or  series  of  past,  in- 
ventions, as  in  the  given  example,  by  the  establishment  of  a 
postal  service  and,  later,  of  the  aerial  telegraph  ?  Even  phys- 
ical needs  cannot  become  social  forces  unless,  as  I  have  al- 
ready had  occasion  to  observe,  they  are  made  specific  in  an 
analogous  way.  It  is  only  too  clear  that  the  desire  to  smoke, 
to  drink  tea  or  coffee,  etc.,  did  not  appear  until  after  the  dis- 
covery of  tea,  or  coffee,  or  tobacco.  Here  is  another  ex- 
ample among  a  thousand.  "  Clothing  does  not  result  from 
modesty,"  M.  Wiener  justly  observes  (Le  Perou);  "on 
the  contrary,  modesty  appears  as  a  result  of  clothing,  that  is 
to  say,  the  clothing  which  conceals  any  part  of  the  human 
body  makes  the  nakedness  of  the  part  which  we  are  accus- 
tomed to  see  covered,  appear  indecent."  In  other  words, 
the  desire  to  be  clothed,  in  so  far  as  it  is  a  social  desire,  is 
due  to  the  discovery  of  clothing,  of  certain  kinds  of  clothes. 
Inventions  are  far  from  being,  then,  the  simple  effects  of 
social  necessities;  they  are  their  causes.  Nor  do  I  think 
that  I  have  over-emphasised  them.  Inventors  may,  at  given 
times,  direct  their  imagination  in  line  with  the  vague  desires 
of  the  public,  but  we  must  not  forget,  I  repeat,  that  these 
popular  desires  have  themselves  been  aroused  by  previous 


94  Laws  of  Imitation 

inventors  who  were  in  turn  indirectly  influenced  by  still 
older  inventors.  This  goes  on  until  we  finally  find,  on  the 
one  hand,  as  the  primordial  and  necessary  basis  of  every 
society  and  civilisation,  certain  simple,  although  very  ar- 
duous, inspirations  which  are  due,  undoubtedly,  to  a  very 
small  number  of  innate  and  purely  vital  wants;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  certain  still  more  important  chance  discoveries 
which  were  made  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  discovery,  and 
which  were  nothing  more  than  the  play  of  a  naturally  crea- 
tive imagination.  How  many  languages,  religions,  and 
poems,  how  many  industries  even,  have  begun  in  this  way ! 
So  much  for  invention.  The  same  answer  may  be  made 
in  regard  to  imitation.  It  is  true  that  we  do  not  do  every- 
thing that  we  do  through  routine  or  fashion  and  that  we 
do  not  believe  everything  that  we  believe  through  prejudice 
or  on  authority — although  popular  credulity,  docility,  and 
passivity  are  immensely  greater  than  is  usually  admitted. 
But  even  when  imitation  is  voluntary  and  deliberate,  even 
when  we  do  and  believe  that  which  appears  to  be  the  most 
useful  and  the  most  believable  thing,  our  acts  and  thoughts 
are  predetermined.  Our  acts  are  what  they  are  because 
they  are  the  fittest  to  satisfy  and  develop  the  wants  which 
previous  imitation  of  other  inventions  had  first  seeded  in  us; 
our  thoughts,  because  they  were  the  most  consistent  with  the 
knowledge  acquired  by  us  of  other  thoughts  which  were 
themselves  acquired  because  they  were  confirmed  by  other 
preliminary  ideas  or  by  visual,  tactile,  and  other  kinds  of 
impressions  which  we  got  by  renewing  for  ourselves  certain 
scientific  experiences  or  observations,  after  the  example  of 
those  who  first  undertook  them.1  Thus  imitations,  like  in- 

1  The  character  of  our  pre-existing  wants  and  purposes  does  not 
alone  influence  or  determine  us  in  choosing  the  thoughts  and  acts,  the 
creeds  and  careers,  which  we  are  always  copying  from  others.  The  laws 
of  respective  countries,  the  prohibition  of  a  certain  industry,  for  ex- 
ample, or  free  trade,  or  obligatory  instruction  in  a  given  branch  of 
knowledge,  are  also  factors.  But  laws  act  upon  imitation  in  the  same 
way,  at  bottom,  as  wants  and  purposes.  They  both  rule  over  us,  and 
the  only  difference  in  their  rule  is  that  the  one  is  an  outward  master 
and  the  other  an  inward  tyrant.  Moreover,  laws  are  only  the  expres- 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  95 

ventions,  are  seen  to  be  linked  together  one  after  the  other, 
in  mutual  if  not  in  self  dependence.  If  we  follow  back 
this  second  chain  as  we  did  the  first,  we  come,  logically, 
at  last,  to  self-originating  imitation,  so  to  speak,  to  the 
mental  state  of  primitive  savages  who,  like  children,  imi- 
tate for  the  mere  pleasure  of  imitating.  This  motive  de- 
termines most  of  their  acts,  all  of  the  acts,  in  fact,  which 
belong  to  their  social  life.  And  so  I  have  not  overrated 
the  importance  of  imitation,  either. 


II 

In  brief,  the  picture  of  primitive  society  which  rises  be- 
fore me  is  that  of  a  feeble,  wayward  imagination  scattered 
here  and  there  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  passive  wiitativeness 
which  receives  and  perpetuates  all  its  vagaries  as  the  water 
of  a  lake  circles  out  under  the  stroke  of  a  bird's  wing  on  its 
surface.  It  seems  to  me  that  archaeological  researches  fully 
confirm  this  view.  Sumner  Maine  says  in  his  Early  His- 
tory of  Institutions:  "  Mr.  Taylor  has  justly  observed  the 
true  lesson  of  the  new  science  of  Comparative  Mythology 
is  the  barrenness  in  primitive  times  of  the  mental  faculty 
which  we  most  associate  with  mental  fertility,  the  Imagina- 
tion. Comparative  jurisprudence  as  might  be  expected 
from  the  natural  stability  of  law  and  custom  yet  more 
strongly  suggests  the  same  inference."  This  observation 
has  only  to  be  generalised.  What  is  simpler,  for  example, 
than  to  represent  Fortune  with  a  horn  of  plenty,  or  Venus 
holding  an  apple  in  her  hand?  Yet  Pausanias  takes  the 
trouble  to  tell  us  that  the  former  emblem  was  originally 
conceived  of  by  Bupalus,  one  of  the  oldest  sculptors  of 
Greece,  and  the  latter,  by  Canachus,  a  sculptor  of  y£gina. 

sion  of  the  ruling  wants  and  purposes  of  the  governing  class  at  a  given 
time,  and  these  wants  and  purposes  may  be  always  explained  in  the 
way  that  I  have  already  indicated. 

1  [Lectures  on  the  Early  History  of  Institutions,  p.  225,  Sir  Henry 
Sumner  Maine,  K.  C.  S.  I.,  LL.  D.,  F.  R.  S.,  New  York,  1875.— TV.] 


96  Laws  of  Imitation 

From  these  insignificant  ideas  in  the  minds  of  these  two 
men  are  derived,  then,  the  innumerable  statues  of  Fortune 
and  Venus  which  are  characterised  by  these  emblems. 

Archaeological  studies  point  to  another  fact  which  is  just 
as  important  although  it  has  been  less  observed.  They 
show  that  in  ancient  times  man  was  much  less  hermetically 
bound  up  in  his  local  traditions  and  customs  and  was  much 
more  imitative  of  the  outside  world  and  open  to  foreign 
fashions  in  the  matter  of  trinkets,  weapons,  and  even  of  in- 
stitutions and  industries,  than  we  have  been  led  to  suppose. 
It  is  truly  surprising  to  find  that  at  a  certain  period  of  antiq- 
uity such  a  useless  thing  as  amber  was  imported  from  its 
original  place  of  deposit  on  the  Baltic  to  the  extremes  of 
southern  Europe.  The  similarity  in  the  decorations  of  the 
contemporary  tombs  of  widely  separated  races  is  also  a  sur- 
prising fact.  "  At  the  same  very  remote  period,"  writes  M. 
Maury,  on  the  subject  of  Euganean  antiquities  (Journal  des 
savants,  1882),  "the  same  art,  whose  productions  we  are 
now  beginning  to  recognise,  was  spread  through  the  littoral 
provinces  of  Asia  Minor,  through  the  Archipelago,  and 
through  Greece.  The  Etruscans  seem  to  have  held  a 
place  in  this  school.  Every  nation  modified  its  principles  ac- 
cording to  its  own  genius."  Finally,  it  is  marvellous  to  find 
that,  even  in  the  most  primitive  of  prehistoric  ages,  the  types 
of  flakes,  of  drawings,  and  of  bone  implements  are  the  same 
almost  all  over  the  globe.1  It  seems  as  if  every  well-defined 
archaeological  period  were  distinguished  by  the  preponderat- 
ing prestige  of  some  particular  civilisation  which  illu- 

1  At  first  sight  the  striking  similarity  of  the  axes  and  arrowheads,  and 
the  other  flint  tools  and  weapons,  which  were  discovered  on  both  the 
old  and  the  new  continent,  might  seem  to  be  the  result  of  a  mere  coinci- 
dence, which  the  identity  of  human  wants  in  war,  hunting,  clothing,  etc., 
would  sufficiently  explain.  But  we  already  know  the  objections  which 
could  be  raised  against  this  explanation.  Moreover,  we  must  note  the 
fact  that  polished  axes,  arrowheads,  and  even  idols  of  jade  and  jadeite, 
stones  that  were  absolutely  unknown  throughout  the  American  conti- 
nent, have  been  found  in  Mexico.  Is  not  this  a  proof  that  during  the 
stone  age  the  germs  of  civilisation  were  carried  over  from  the  Old 
World  to  the  New?  The  event  of  such  an  importation  in  later  periods 
is  doubtful  (see  M.  de  Nadaillac,  Amerique  prehistorique,  p.  542)- 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  97 

urinated  and  coloured  all  other  rival  or  subject  civilisations 
somewhat  as  every  palseontological  period  is  the  reign  of 
some  great  animal  species,  of  some  mollusk,  reptile,  or 
pachydermus. 

Archaeology  can  also  show  us  that  men  have  always  been 
much  less  original  than  they  themselves  are  pleased'  to  be- 
lieve. We  come  to  overlook  what  we  no  longer  look  for, 
and  we  no  longer  look  for  what  we  have  always  under  our 
eyes.  For  this  reason,  the  faces  of  our  fellow  countrymen 
always  impress  us  by  the  dissimilarity  of  their  distinctive 
traits.  Although  they  belong  to  the  same  race,  we  ignore 
their  common  racial  traits.  On  the  other  hand,  the  people 
we  see  in  our  travels,  Chinese,  Arabians,  negroes,  all  look 
alike.  One  might  say  that  the  truth  lay  between  these  op- 
posite impressions.  But  in  this  instance,  as  in  most,  the 
method  of  averaging  is  erroneous.  For  the  cause  of 
the  illusion  which  partly  blinds  the  man  settled  down  among 
his  fellow  citizens,  the  film  of  habit,  does  not  dull  the  eye  of 
the  traveller  among  strangers.  Therefore,  the  impressions 
of  the  latter  are  likely  to  be  much  more  exact  than  those  of 
the  former,  and  they  testify  to  the  fact  that  among  indi- 
viduals of  the  same  race  inherited  traits  of  similarity  always 
outnumber  traits  of  dissimilarity. 

Well,  for  a  like  reason,  in  turning  from  the  vital  to  the 
social  world,  we  are  always  exclusively  impressed,  not  by 
the  analogies,  but  by  the  differences  which  are,  in  general, 
apparent  between  the  pictures  and  statues  and  writings  of 
ourcontemporary  painters  and  sculptors  and  writers,  and  be- 
tween the  manners  and  gestures  and  witticisms  of  the  friends 
and  acquaintances  in  our  drawing  rooms.  When,  however, 
we  glance  over  the  works  of  Etruscan  art  in  the  Campana 
Museum,  or  when  we  pass  for  the  first  time  through  gal- 
leries of  Dutch  or  Venetian  or  Florentine  or  Spanish  art, 
containing  pictures  of  the  same  school  or  period,  or  when 
we  examine  the  mediaeval  manuscripts  in  our  archives,  or 
when,  in  a  museum  of  historic  art,  we  view  the  rifled  con- 
tents of  Egyptian  tombs,  it  seems  to  us  that  we  are  behold- 
ing almost  indistinguishable  copies  of  a  single  model  and 


98  Laws  of  Imitation 

that  formerly,  in  the  same  country  and  at  the  same  time, 
every  style  of  writing,  painting,  sculpturing,  building,  every 
form  of  social  life,  in  fact,  was  so  much  like  every  other 
as  to  be  taken  for  it.  This  impression  cannot  be  mislead- 
ing, and  it,  too,  should  make  us  realise,  by  analogy,  that  we 
ourselves  are  infinitely  more  imitative  than  inventive.  This 
is  no  mean  lesson  to  draw  from  archaeological  studies.  It  is 
certain  that  within  a  century  almost  all  the  novelists  and 
artists  and,  above  all,  the  poets, — most  of  whom  are  the 
apes  or  rather  the  lemurs  of  Victor  Hugo, — of  whose  origi- 
nality we  so  naively  boast,  will  justly  pass  for  the  servile 
copyists  of  one  another. 

In  a  preceding  chapter  I  tried  to  prove  that  all  or  almost 
all  social  resemblances  were  due  to  imitation  just  as  all  or 
almost  all  vital  resemblances  were  caused  by  heredity. 
This  simple  principle  has  been  implicitly  and  unanimously 
accepted  by  modern  archaeologists  as  the  guiding  thread  in 
the  very  obscure  labyrinths  of  their  immense  subterraneous 
excavations,  and,  from  the  services  which  it  has  already 
rendered,  we  may  predict  those  which  it  will  still  be  called 
upon  to  give.  Suppose  that  an  ancient  Etruscan  tomb  is 
discovered?  How  is  its  age  to  be  determined? 
What  is  the  subject  of  its  frescoes?  We  can  solve 
these  problems  by  noting  the  slight  and  sometimes 
elusive  resemblances  between  its  paintings  and  others  of  a 
Greek  origin ;  and  in  this  way  we  may  at  once  infer  that 
Greece  was  already  imitated  by  Etruria  at  the  time  when 
the  tomb  was  constructed.  It  does  not  occur  to  us  to  ex- 
plain these  resemblances  as  fortuitous  coincidences.  Imita- 
tion is  the  postulate  which  serves  as  a  guide  in  these  ques- 
tions, and  which,  under  wise  management,  is  never  mis- 
leading. Scholars  are,  to  be  sure,  too  often  carried  away 
by  the  naturalistic  prejudices  of  their  times;  they  do  not 
limit  themselves  to  deducing  imitation  from  facts  of  re- 
semblance, but  infer  kinship  from  them  likewise.  From 
the  fact,  for  example,  that  the  vases,  situlce,  etc.,  found  in 
the  excavations  at  Este,  in  Venetia,  were  curiously  like 
those  found  at  Verona,  Belluno,  and  elsewhere,  M.  Maury 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  99 

inclines  to  think  that  the  builders  of  these  different  tombs 
belonged  to  the  same  people.  Nothing  seems  to  justify  this 
conjecture.  To  be  sure,  M.  Maury  takes  the  trouble  to  add 
that,  "  at  any  rate,  they  belonged  to  populations  who 
observed  the  same  funeral  rites  and  who  possessed  a  com- 
mon industry  " — a  somewhat  different  matter.  At  any 
rate,  it  seems  pretty  certain  that  even  if  the  so-called 
Etruscans  of  the  North,  of  Venetia,  had  Etruscan  blood  in 
their  veins,  they  mixed  it  very  freely  with  Celtic  blood.  On 
this  point,  M.  Maury  remarks  elsewhere  upon  the  influence 
which  a  civilised  nation  has  always  exerted,  even  without 
conquest,  over  its  barbarous  neighbours.  "  Etruscan  works 
of  art  were  clearly  imitated,"  he  says,  "  by  the  Gauls  of  Cis- 
alpine Gaul."  And  so  likeness  between  artistic  products  is 
no  proof  at  all  of  consanguinity,  it  points  only  to  a  contagion 
of  imitation. 

In  order  to  connect  the  unknown  with  the  known  archae- 
ologists have  been  obliged  to  seek  for  the  secret  of  past 
generations  in  the  most  remote  and,  to  the  lay  eye,  imper- 
ceptible analogies  in  the  matter  of  form,  style,  situation,  lan- 
guage, legend,  dress,  etc.,  thereby  training  themselves  to 
discover  the  unexpected  everywhere.  Some  of  these  unex- 
pected things  are  based  on  fact;  others,  on  different  de- 
grees of  likelihood  according  to  a  very  extensive  scale  of 
probability.  In  this  way  archaeologists  have  contributed  in 
a  wonderful  degree  to  deepening  and  widening  the  domain 
of  human  imitativeness  and  to  almost  entirely  reducing  the 
civilisation  of  every  people,  even  that  which  at  first  may 
seem  to  be  the  most  original,  into  a  combination  of  imitations 
of  other  peoples.  They  know  that  Arabian  art,  in  spite  of 
its  distinctive  features,  is  merely  the  fusion  of  Persian 
with  Greek  art,  that  Greek  art  borrowed  certain  processes 
from  Egyptian  and  perhaps  from  other  sources,  and  that 
Egyptian  art  was  formed  from  or  amplified  by  many  suc- 
cessive Asiatic  and  even  African  contributions.  There  is 
no  assignable  limit  to  this  archaeological  decomposition  of 
civilisations;  there  is  no  social  molecule  which  their  chem- 
istry has  not  a  fair  hope  of  resolving  into  its  constituent 


loo  Laws  of  Imitation 

atoms.  Meanwhile,  their  labours  have  reduced  the  number 
of  still  indecomposable  centres  of  civilisation  to  three  or 
four,  in  the  Old  World,  and  to  one  or  two  in  the  New.  In 
the  latter,  strange  to  say,  they  are  all  situated  on  plateaux 
(•Mexico  and  Peru),  and  in  the  former,  at  the  mouth  or  on 
the  banks  of  great  rivers  (the  Nile,  the  Euphrates,  the 
Ganges,  and  the  rivers  of  China),  although  great  water 
courses,  as  M.  de  Candolle  justly  remarks,  are  neither  more 
uncommon  nor  more  unhealthy  in  America  than  in  Europe 
and  Asia,  and  although  habitable  plateaux  are  not  lacking 
in  these  latter  parts  of  the  world.  The  arbitrary  factor 
which  influences  the  choice  of  the  first  makers  or  importers 
of  civilisation  in  the  pitching  of  their  tents  shows  itself  here. 
And,  perhaps,  the  civilisations  that  come  from  them  will 
bear  to  the  end  of  time  the  ineffaceable  mark  of  their 
primordial  caprice! 

Thanks  to  the  archaeologists  we  learn  where  and  when  a 
new  discovery  first  appeared,  how  far  and  how  long  it  has 
spread,  and  by  what  roads  it  has  travelled  from  the  place  of 
its  origin  to  its  adopted  country.  Although  they  may  not 
take  us  back  to  the  first  furnace  which  turned  out  bronze 
or  iron,  they  do  take  us  back  to  the  first  country  and 
century  in  which  the  pointed  arch,  printing,  and  oil-paint- 
ing, and,  still  much  more  anciently,  the  orders  of  Greek 
architecture,  the  Phoenician  alphabet,  etc.,  displayed  them- 
selves to  a  justly  marvelling  world.  They  devote  all  their 
curiosity1  and  activity  to  following  up  a  given  invention 
through  its  manifold  disguises  and  modifications,  to  recog- 
nising the  atrium  in  the  cloister,  the  praetorium  of  the  Ro- 
man magistrate  in  the  Roman  church,  the  Etruscan  bench 
in  the  curule-chair,  or  to  tracing  out  the  boundaries  of  the 
region  to  which  an  invention  has  spread  through  gradual 

1 1  know  that  the  curiosity  of  the  antiquarian  is  often  vain  and 
puerile.  Even  the  greatest  among  them,  men  like  Schliemann,  seem 
more  bent  upon  discovering  something  relating  to  a  celebrated  individ- 
ual, to  a  Hector  or  Priam  or  Agamemnon,  than  upon  following  out  the 
course  of  the  principal  inventions  of  the  past.  But  the  personal  aim 
and  motive  of  the  workers  is  one  thing,  the  net  gain  and  specific  fruit 
of  their  work,  another. 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  101 

self-propagation  and  beyond  which,  for  yet  to  be  discovered 
reasons  (in  my  opinion  they  are  always  the  competition  of 
rival  inventions),  it  has  been  unable  to  pass,  or  to  studying 
the  results  of  the  intersection  of  different  inventions  which 
have  spread  so  widely  that  they  have  finally  come  together 
in  one  imaginative  brain. 

In  short,  these  scholars  are  forced,  perhaps  uncon- 
sciously, into  surveying  the  social  life  of  the  past  from  a 
point  of  view  which  is  continually  approximating  that 
which  I  claim  should  be  adopted  knowingly  and  willingly  by 
the  sociologist.  I  refer  here  to  the  pure  sociologist,  who, 
through  a  necessary  although  artificial  abstraction,  is  dis- 
tinguished from  the  naturalist.  In  distinction  to  histo- 
rians who  see  nothing  else  in  history  than  the  conflicts  and 
competitions  of  individuals,  that  is,  of  the  arms  and  legs  as 
well  as  of  the  minds  of  individuals,  and  who,  in  regard  to 
the  latter,  do  not  differentiate  between  ideas  and  desires  of 
the  most  diverse  origins,  confusing  those  few  that  are  new 
and  personal  with  a  mass  of  those  that  are  merely  copies;  in 
distinction  to  those  poor  carvers-up  of  reality  who  have 
been  unable  to  perceive  the  true  dividing  line  between  vital 
and  social  facts,  the  point  where  they  separate  without  tear- 
ing, archaeologists  stand  out  as  makers  of  pure  sociology,  be- 
cause, as  the  personality  of  those  they  unearth  is  impene- 
trable, and  only  the  work  of  the  dead,  the  vestiges  of  their 
archaic  wants  and  ideas,  are  open  to  their  scrutiny,  they 
hear,  in  a  certain  way,  like  the  Wagnerian  ideal,  the  music 
without  seeing  the  orchestra  of  the  past.  In  their  own 
eyes,  I  know,  this  is  a  cruel  deprivation;  but  time,  in  de- 
stroying the  corpses  and  blotting  out  the  memories  of  the 
painters  and  writers  and  modellers  whose  inscriptions  and 
palimpsests  they  decipher  and  whose  frescoes  and  torsos 
and  potsherds  they  so  laboriously  interpret,  has,  neverthe- 
less, rendered  them  the  service  of  setting  free  everything 
that  is  properly  social  in  human  events  by  eliminating 
everything  that  is  vital  and  by  casting  aside  as  an  impurity 
the  carnal  and  fragile  contents  of  the  glorious  form  which 
is  truly  worthy  of  resurrection. 


IO2  Laws  of  Imitation 

To  archaeologists,  then,  history  becomes  both  simplified 
and  transfigured.  In  their  eyes  it  consists  merely  of  the 
advent  and  development,  of  the  competitions  and  conflicts, 
of  original  wants  and  ideas,  or,  to  use  a  single  term, 
of  inventions.  Inventions  thus  become  great  historic 
figures  and  the  real  agents  of  human  progress.  The  proof 
that  this  idealistic  point  of  view  is  the  just  one,  lies  in  its 
fruitfulness.  Through  its  happy,  although,  I  repeat,  in- 
voluntary, adoption,  do  not  philologist  and  mythologist,  the 
modern  archaeologist,  under  different  names,  cut  all  the 
Gordian  knots  and  shed  light  upon  all  the  obscurities 
of  history  and,  without  taking  away  any  of  its  grace 
and  picturesqueness,  bestow  upon  it  the  charm  of  the- 
ory? If  history  is  on  the  way  to  become  a  science,  is 
it  not  due  to  this  point  of  view  ? 


Ill 

Something  is  likewise  due  to  the  statistician.  The  stat- 
istician, like  the  archaeologist,  considers  human  affairs  from 
an  entirely  abstract  and  impersonal  standpoint.  He  pays 
no  attention  to  individuals,  to  Peter  or  Paul;  he  concerns 
himself  only  with  their  works,  or,  rather,  with  those  acts  of 
theirs  which  reveal  their  wants  and  ideas,  with  the  act  of 
buying  or  selling,  of  manufacturing,  of  voting,  of  commit- 
ting or  repressing  crime,  of  suing  for  judicial  separation, 
and  even  with  the  acts  of  being  born,  of  marrying,  of  pro- 
creating, and  of  dying.  All  these  individual  acts  are  re- 
lated on  some  of  their  sides  to  social  life,  in  as  much  as 
the  spread  of  certain  examples  or  prejudices  seems  to  aid 
in  raising  or  lowering  the  rates  of  birth  and  marriage,  and 
to  affect  the  prolificness  of  marriages  and  the  mortality 
of  infants. 

If  archaeology  is  the  collection  and  classification  of  similar 
products  where  the  highest  possibledegreeof  similarity  is  the 
most  important  thing,  Statistics  is  an  enumeration  of  acts 
which  are  as  much  alike  as  possible.  Here  the  art  is  in  the 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  103 

choice  of  units;  the  more  alike  and  equal  they  are,  the  better 
they  are.  What  is  the  subject  of  Statistics  unless,  like  that  of 
archaeology,  it  is  inventions  and  the  imitative  editions  of 
inventions?  Only,  the  latter  study  treats  of  inventions 
which  are  for  the  most  part  dead,  worn  out  by  their  very 
activity,  whereas  the  former  treats  of  living  inventions 
which  are  often  modern  or  contemporaneous  and  which  are 
in  actual  process  of  growth  and  expansion,  of  arrest  or  of 
decay.  The  one  is  the  palaeontology,  the  other  the  physi- 
ology, of  society.  While  archaeology  tells  us  that  speci- 
mens of  Greek  pottery  were  transported  in  Phoenician  ves- 
sels at  a  certain  rate  of  speed  to  certain  places  on  the  shores 
of  the  Mediterranean  and  far  beyond,  Statistics  tells  us  what 
islands  of  Oceanica,  how  near  the  North  or  the  South  Pole, 
the  English  vessels  of  to-day  carry  the  cotton  goods  of  Eng- 
land and  what  number  of  yards  they  annually  export  to 
foreign  markets.  We  must  admit,  however,  that  the  field 
of  invention  seems  to  belong  more  especially  to  archaeology, 
and  that  of  imitation,  to  Statistics.  While  jthe  former  en- 
deavours to  follow  out  the  thread  between  successive  dis- 
coveries, the  latter  excels  in  estimating  their  individual  ex- 
pansion. The  domain  of  archaeology  is  the  more  philo- 
sophic, that  of  Statistics,  the  more  scientific. 

To  be  sure,  the  methods  of  these  two  sciences  are  pre- 
cisely opposite  to  each  other,  but  this  is  because  of  the  dif- 
ference in  the  external  conditions  of  their  investigations. 
Archaeology  studies  the  scattered  examples  of  the  same  art 
a  long  time  before  it  is  able  to  hazard  a  conjecture  about 
the  origin  or  date  of  the  primary  process  from  which  it  has 
developed.  For  example,  all  the  Indo-European  languages 
must  be  known  before  they  can  be  related  to  a  perhaps  im- 
aginary mother  tongue,  to  Aryac,  or  to  their  elder  sister, 
Sanskrit.  Archaeology  laboriously  travels  back  from  imita- 
tions to  their  source.  The  science  of  statistics,  on  the  other 
hand,  almost  always  knows  the  source  of  the  expansions 
which  it  is  measuring;  it  goes  from  causes  to  effects,  from 
discoveries  to  their  more  or  less  successful  development  ac- 
cording to  given  years  and  countries.  By  means  of  its  sue- 


IO4  Laws  of  Imitation 

cessive  records,  it  will  tell  you  that,  from  the  time  that  the 
invention  of  steam  engines  began  to  gradually  spread  and 
strengthen  the  need  for  coal  throughout  France,  the  output 
of  French  coal  increased  at  a  perfectly  regular  rate  and  that 
from  1759  to  1869  it  multiplied  sixty-two  and  one-half 
times.  In  the  same  way  you  may  also  learn  that  after  the 
discovery  of  beet  sugar,  or,  rather,  after  the  utility  of  the 
discovery  was  no  longer  doubted,  the  manufacture  of  this 
commodity  was  increased  at  an  equally  regular  rate  from 
seven  millions  of  kilograms  in  1828  (until  then  it  was  al- 
most stationary  for  the  reason  implied  above)  to  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  millions  of  kilograms  thirty  years  later 
(Maurice  Block). 

I  have  taken  the  less  interesting  examples,  but  do  we  not 
witness  by  means  of  even  these  dry  figures  the  birth  and 
gradual  establishment  and  progress  of  a  new  want  or  fash- 
ion in  the  community?  In  general,  there  is  nothing  more 
instructive  than  the  chronological  tables  of  statisticians,  in 
which  they  show  us  the  increasing  rise  or  fall,  year  by  year, 
of  some  special  kind  of  consumption  or  production,  of  some 
particular  political  opinion  as  it  is  expressed  in  the  returns 
of  the  ballot  box,  or  of  some  specific  desire  for  security  that 
is  embodied  in  fire-insurance  premiums,  in  savings-bank  ac- 
counts, etc.  These  are  all,  at  bottom,  representations  in  the 
life  of  some  desire  or  belief  that  has  been  imported  and 
copied.  Every  one  of  these  tables,  or,  rather,  every  one  of  the 
graphical  curves  which  represent  them,  is,  in  a  way,  an  his- 
torical monograph.  Taken  together  they  form  the  best  his- 
torical narrative  that  it  is  possible  to  have.  Synchronous 
tables  giving  comparisons  between  provinces  or  between 
countries  are  generally  much  less  interesting.  Let  us  con- 
trast, as  data  for  philosophic  reflection,  a  table  of  crimi- 
nality in  the  departments  of  France  with  a  curve  showing 
the  increase  of  recidivists  during  the  last  fifty  years;  or, 
let  us  compare  the  proportion  of  the  urban  to  the  rural 
population  with  that  of  the  urban  population  year  by 
year.  We  shall  see  in  the  latter  case,  for  example,  that  the 
proportion  increased  from  1851  to  1882  at  a  regular  and 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  105 

uninterrupted  rate  from  twenty-five  to  thirty-three  per  cent., 
i.  e.,  from  a  fourth  to  a  third.  This  fact  evidences  the  ac- 
tion of  some  definite  social  cause,  whereas  a  comparison  of 
the  proportions  between  two  neighbouring  departments,  be- 
tween twenty-eight  per  cent.,  for  example,  in  the  one,  and 
twenty-six  per  cent,  in  the  other,  is  not  at  all  instructive. 
Similarly,  a  table  giving  the  civil  burials  which  had  occurred 
in  Paris  or  in  the  provinces  for  the  last  ten  years  would 
be  significant;  just  as  a  comparison  of  the  number  of  civil 
burials  in  France,  England,  and  Germany  at  any  given  time 
would  be  relatively  valueless.  I  do  not  mean  that  it  would  be 
useless  to  state  that  in  1870  the  number  of  private  telegraphic 
despatches  amounted  in  France  to  fourteen  millions,  in  Ger- 
many to  eleven  millions,  and  in  England  to  twenty-four 
millions.  But  it  is  much  more  instructive  to  know  that  in 
France,  especially,  there  had  been  an  increase  from  nine 
thousand  despatches  in  1851  to  four  millions  in  1859,  to  ten 
millions  in  1869,  and,  finally,  to  fourteen  millions  in  1879. 
We  cannot  follow  this  varying  rate  of  increase  without  be- 
ing reminded  of  the  growth  of  living  things.  Why  is  there 
this  difference  between  curves  and  tables?  Because,  as  a 
rule,  although  there  are  many  exceptions,  curves  alone  deal 
with  the  spread  of  imitation. 

Statistics  evidently  follows  a  much  more  natural  course 
than  archaeology  and,  although  it  supplies  the  same  kind  of 
information,  it  is  much  more  accurate.  Its  method  is  pre- 
eminently the  sociological  method,  and  it  is  only  because 
we  cannot  apply  it  to  extinct  societies  that  we  substitute  the 
method  of  archeeology.  How  many  trivial  medals  and  mo- 
saics, how  many  cinerary  urns  and  funeral  inscriptions,  we 
should  be  willing  to  exchange  for  the  industrial,  the  com- 
mercial, or  even  the  criminal  statistics  of  the  Roman  Em- 
pire! But  in  order  that  Statistics  may  render  all  the  ser- 
vices which  we  expect  of  it  and  may  triumph  against  the 
ironical  criticism  to  which  it  is  exposed,  it  must,  like  archae- 
ology, be  conscious  both  of  its  true  usefulness  and  of  its 
actual  limitations;  it  must  know  where  it  is  going  and 
where  it  should  go,  nor  must  it  underrate  the  dangers  of 


106  Laws  of  Imitation 

the  road  which  will  take  it  to  its  goal.  In  itself  it  is  merely  a 
substitute.  Psychological  statistics  which  would  take  note 
of  the  individual  gains  and  losses  of  special  beliefs  and  de- 
sires called  forth  originally  by  some  innovator,  would  alone, 
if  the  thing  were  practically  possible,  give  the  underlying 
explanation  of  the  figures  of  ordinary  statistics.1  Ordinarily 
Statistics  does  not  weigh;  it  only  counts,  and  in  its  reck- 
oning it  includes  nothing  but  acts,  acts  of  manufacture 
and  consumption,  purchases,  sales,  crimes,  prosecutions, 
etc.  But  it  is  only  after  it  has  reached  a  certain 
degree  of  intensity  that  growing  desire  becomes  ac- 
tion, or  that  decreasing  desire  suddenly  unmasks  itself 
and  gives  way  to  some  contrary  and  hitherto  restrained 
desire.  This  is  also  true  of  belief.  In  looking  over 
the  work  of  statisticians,  it  is  most  important  to  re- 
member that  the  things  which  are  under  calculation  are  es- 
sentially subjective  qualities,  desires  and  beliefs,  and  that 
very  often  the  acts  which  they  enumerate,  although  equal 
in  number,  give  expression  to  very  different  weights  among 
these  things.  At  certain  times  during  the  last  century, 
church  attendance  remained  numerically  the  same,  whereas 
religious  faith  was  on  the  decline.  .  When  the  prestige  of  a 
government  has  been  injured,  the  devotion  of  its  adherents 
may  be  half  destroyed  although  their  number  may  hardly 
have  diminished.  This  fact  is  shown  by  the  vote  on  the 
very  eve  of  a  sudden  political  downfall.  It  is  a  source  of 
delusion  to  those  who  are  unduly  reassured  or  discouraged 
by  electoral  statistics. 

Successful  imitations  are  numerous  indeed,  but  how  few 
they  are  in  comparision  with  those  which  are  still  unreal- 
ised ojects  of  desire!  So-called  popular  wishes,  the  aspira- 
tions of  a  small  town,  for  example,  or  of  a  single  class,  are 

1  According  to  the  statistics  of  railroads,  omnibuses,  excursion 
steamers,  etc.,  their  receipts  diminish  regularly  every  Friday.  This 
points  to  the  very  widespread,  although  much  weakened,  prejudice  about 
the  danger  of  undertaking  anything  at  all  on  that  day  of  the  week.  If 
we  followed  the  variations  in  this  periodic  diminution  from  year  to 
year,  the  gradual  decline  of  the  absurd  belief  in  question  might  be  easily 
calculated. 


Archeology  and  Statistics  107 

composed  exclusively,  at  a  given  moment,  of  tendencies, 
which,  unfortunately,  cannot  at  the  time  be  realised,  to  ape 
in  all  particulars  some  richer  town  or  some  superior  class. 
This  body  of  simian  proclivities  constitutes  the  potential 
energy  of  a  society.  It  takes  only  a  commercial  treaty,  or  a 
new  discovery,  or  a  political  revolution,  events  which  make 
certain  luxuries  and  powers,  which  had  before  been  re- 
served for  the  privileged  ones  of  fortune  or  intellect,  ac- 
cessible to  those  possessing  thinner  purses  or  fewer  abilities, 
to  convert  it  into  actual  energy.  This  potential  energy, 
then,  is  of  great  importance,  and  it  would  be  well  to  bear 
its  fluctuations  in  mind.  And  yet  ordinary  statistics  seem 
to  pay  no  attention  to  this  force.  The  labour  of  making  an 
approximate  estimate  of  it  would  seem  ridiculous,  although 
it  might  be  done  by  many  indirect  methods  and  might  at 
times  be  of  advantage  to  Statistics.  In  this  respect,  archae- 
ology is  superior  in  the  information  which  it  gives  us 
about  buried  societies;  for  although  it  may  teach  us  less 
about  their  activities  in  point  of  detail  and  precision,  it 
pictures  their  aspirations  more  faithfully.  A  Pompeiian 
fresco  reveals  the  psychological  condition  of  a  provincial 
town  under  the  Roman  Empire  much  more  clearly  than  all 
the  statistical  volumes  of  one  of  the  principal  places  of  a 
French  department  can  tell  us  about  the  actual  wishes  of  its 
inhabitants. 

Let  me  add,  that  Statistics  is  of  such  recent  origin  that  it 
it  has  not  yet  shot  out  all  its  branches,  whereas  its  older  col- 
laborator has  ramified  in  all  directions.  There  is  an 
archaeology  of  language,  comparative  philology,  which 
draws  up  separate  monographs  for  us  of  the  life  of  every 
root  from  its  accidental  origin  in  the  mouth  of  some  ancient 
speaker  through  its  endless  reproductions  and  multiplica- 
tions by  means  of  the  remarkable  uniformity  of  innumer- 
able generations  of  men.  There  is  in  archaeology  of  reli- 
gion, comparative  mythology,  which  deals  separately  with 
every  myth  and  with  its  endless  imitative  editions,  just  as 
philology  treats  every  word.  There  is  an  archaeology  of 
law,  of  politics,  of  ethnology,  and,  finally,  of  art  and  indus- 


io8  Laws  of  Imitation 

try.  They  likewise  devote  a  separate  treatise  to  every  legal 
idea  or  fiction,  to  every  custom  or  institution,  to  every  type 
or  creation  of  art,  to  every  industrial  process,  and,  in  addi- 
tion, to  the  power  of  reproduction  by  example  which  is 
peculiar  to  each  of  these  things.  And  we  have  a  corre- 
sponding number  of  distinct  and  flourishing  sciences.  But, 
hitherto,  in  the  matter  of  truly  and  exclusively  sociological 
statistics,  we  have  had  to  be  content  with  statistics  of  com- 
merce and  industry,  and  with  judicial  statistics,  not  to  speak 
of  certain  hybrid  statistics  which  straddle  both  the  physio- 
logical and  the  social  worlds,  statistics  of  population,  of 
births,  marriages,  deaths,  medical  statistics,  etc.  In  tables  of 
election  figures  we  have  merely  the  germ  of  political  statis- 
tics.1 As  to  religious  statistics,  which  should  give  us  a 
graphic  representation  of  the  relative  annual  spread  of  dif- 
ferent sects  and  of  the  thermometric  variations,  so  to  speak, 
in  the  faith  of  their  adherents;  as  to  linguistic  statistics, 
which  should  figure  for  us  not  only  upon  the  comparative 
expansion  of  different  idioms,  but  upon  the  vogue  or  decline, 
in  each  one  of  them,  of  every  vocable,  of  every  form  of 
speech,  I  fear  that,  if  I  should  say  anything  more  about 
these  hypothetical  sciences,  I  might  bring  a  smile  to  the  lips 
of  my  readers. 

However,  I  have  amply  justified  the  assertion  that  the 
statistician  looks  at  human  affairs  from  the  same  point  of 
view  as  the  archaeologist  and  that  this  point  of  view  coin- 
cides with  mine.  At  the  risk  of  distorting  it,  let  me  simplify 
it  in  a  brief  summary  before  we  continue.  In  the  midst  of 
an  incoherent  mass  of  historic  facts,  a  puzzling  dream  or 
nightmare,  reason  vainly  seeks  for  an  order  which  it  does 

1  It  may  be  that  universal  suffrage  is  of  no  value  except  on  one  of  its 
sides,  a  side  hitherto  overlooked.  It  has  decided  value  as  an  intermit- 
tent study  in  political  statistics,  through  which  a  nation  is  made  con- 
scious of  the  changes  in  its  desires  and  opinions  in  vital  matters.  To 
work  under  the  conditions  which  are  required  for  the  calculation  of 
probabilities,  this  study  must  be  based  upon  very  large  numbers.  Hence 
the  necessity  for  extending  the  franchise  as  much  as  possible,  and, 
especially,  of  absolutely  universalising  sr>-called  universal  suffrage.  (On 
this  subject,  see  an  article  published  in  my  Etudes  penales  et  sociales). 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  109 

not  find  because  it  refuses  to  look  in  the  right  direction. 
Sometimes  it  imagines  that  this  order  has  been  found  and, 
in  its  conception  of  history  as  the  fragment  of  a  poem  which 
is  unintelligible  except  in  its  entirety,  it  refers  us  for  the 
solution  of  the  enigma  to  the  moment  when  the  final  des- 
tinies of  humanity  shall  have  been  fulfilled  and  its  most 
hidden  origins  absolutely  revealed.  We  may  as  well  repeat 
the  famous  phrase:  Ignorabimus.  But  if  we  look  beneath 
the  names  and  dates  of  history,  beneath  its  battles  and 
revolutions,  what  do  we  see?  We  see  specific  desires  that 
have  been  excited  or  sharpened  by  certain  inventions  or 
practical  initiatives,  each  of  which  appears  at  a  certain  point 
from  which,  like  a  luminous  body,  it  shoots  out  incessant 
radiations  which  harmoniously  intersect  with  thousands  of 
analogous  vibrations  in  whose  multiplicity  there  is  an  en- 
tire lack  of  confusion.  We  also  see  specific  beliefs  that 
have  been  produced  by  certain  discoveries  or  hypotheses 
that  also  radiate  at  a  variable  rate  and  within  variable 
limits.  The  order  in  which  these  inventions  or  discoveries 
appear  and  are  developed  is,  in  a  large  measure,  merely 
capricious  and  accidental;  but,  at  length,  through  an  evi- 
table  elimination  of  those  which  are  contrary  to  one;  another 
(i.  e.,  of  those  which  more  or  less  contradict  one  another 
through  some  of  their  implicit  propositions),  the  simulta- 
neous group  which  they  form  becomes  harmonious  and 
coherent.  Viewed  thus  as  an  expansion  of  waves  issuing 
from  distinct  centres  and  as  a  logical  arrangement  of  these 
centres  and  of  their  circles  of  vibration,  a  nation,  a  city,  the 
most  humble  episode  in  the  so-called  poem  of  history,  be- 
comes a  living  and  individual  whole,  a  fine  spectacle  for  the 
contemplation  of  the  philosopher. 


IV 

If  this  point  of  view  is  correct,  if  it  is  really  the  fittest 
from  which  to  elucidate  social  events  on  their  regular, 
numerable,  and  measurable  sides,  it  follows  that  Statistics 


no  Laws  of  Imitation 

should  adopt  it,  not  partially  and  unconsciously,  but  know- 
ingly and  unreservedly,  and  thus,  like  archaeology,  be  spared 
many  fruitless  investigations  and  tribulations.  1  will  enu- 
merate the  principal  consequences  that  would  result  from 
this.  In  the  first  place,  sociological  Statistics,  having  acquired 
a  touchstone  for  the  knowledge  of  what  did  and  what  did  not 
belong  to  it,  and  having  become  convinced  that  the  immense 
field  of  human  imitation,  and  only  that  field,  was  its  exclu- 
sive possession,  would  leave  to  naturalists  the  care  of 
tabulating  statistics  so  purely  anthropological  in  their 
results  as,  for  example,  the  statistics  of  exemption  from 
military  service  in  the  different  departments  of  France,  or 
the  task  of  constructing  tables  of  mortality  (I  do  not  include 
tables  of  birth  rates,  for,  in  this  case,  example  is  a  powerful 
factor  in  restraining  or  stimulating  racial  fecundity).  This 
is  pure  biology,  just  as  much  as  the  use  of  M.  Marey's 
graphical  method,  or  as  the  observation  of  disease  through 
the  myograph  and  sphgymograph  and  pneumograph, 
mechanical  statisticians,  so  to  speak,  of  contractions  and 
pulsations  and  respiratory  movements. 

In  the  second  place,  the  sociological  statistician  would 
never  forget  that  his  proper  task  was  the  measurement  of 
specific  beliefs  and  desires  and  the  use  of  the  most  direct 
methods  to  grasp  these  elusive  quantities,  and  that  an 
enumeration  of  acts  which  resembled  each  other  as  much  as 
possible  (a  condition  which  is  badly  fulfilled  by  criminal 
statistics  among  others),  and,  failing  this,  an  enumeration 
of  like  products,  of  articles  of  commerce,  for  example, 
should  always  relate  to  the  following,  or,  rather,  to  the  two 
following  ends:  (i)  through  the  tabulation  of  acts  or 
products  to  trace  out  the  curve  of  the  successive  increases, 
standstills,  or  decreases  in  every  new  or  old  want  and  in 
every  new  or  old  idea,  as  it  spreads  out  and  consolidates 
itself  or  as  it  is  crushed  back  and  uprooted;  (2)  through 
a  skilful  comparision  between  series  that  have  been  obtained 
in  this  way,  and  through  emphasising  their  concomitant  va- 
riations, to  denote  the  various  aids  and  hindrances  which 
these  different  imitative  propagations  or  consolidations  of 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  1 1 1 

wants  and  ideas  lend  or  oppose  to  one  another  (according 
to  the  varying  degrees  in  which  the  more  or  less  numerous 
and  implicit  propositions  of  which  they  always  consist, 
more  or  less  endorse  or  contradict  one  another).  Nor 
should  the  sociological  statistician  neglect  the  influence,  in 
these  matters,  of  sex,  age,  temperament,  climate,  and 
seasons,  natural  causes  whose  force  is  measured,  at  any  rate 
when  it  exists,  by  physical  or  biological  statistics. 

In  other  words,  sociological  statistics  have:  (i)  to  de- 
termine the  imitative  power  which  inheres  in  every  inven- 
tion at  any  given  time  and  place;  (2)  to  demonstrate  the 
beneficial  or  harmful  effects  which  result  from  the  imitation 
of  given  inventions  and,  consequently,  to  influence  those 
who  are  acquainted  with  such  numerical  results,  in  their 
tendencies  towards  following  or  disregarding  the  examples 
in  question.  In  brief,  the  entire  object  of  this  kind  of  re- 
search is  the  knowledge  and  control  of  imitations.  Medical 
statistics  may  be  cited  to  show  how  the  latter  aim  has  been 
reached.  Medical  statistics,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  are  related 
to  social  science  in  as  much  as  they  compare  the  proportion, 
in  the  case  of  every  disease,  of  sufferers  who  are  cured  by 
the  use  of  the  different  methods  and  remedies  of  ancient 
or  recent  discovery.  In  this  way  it  has  contributed  to  the 
spread  of  vaccination,  of  the  treatment  of  the  itch  by  para- 
siticides, etc.  Statistics  which  show  that  crime,  suicide,  and 
mental  derangements  are  greatly  increased  through  residence 
in  cities  would  tend  to  moderate,  very  feebly  to  be  sure,  the 
great  current  of  imitation  which  carries  the  country  popula- 
tion to  the  cities.  M.  Bertillon  assures  us  that  even  statistics 
of  marriage  would  encourage  us  to  make  an  even  greater 
use  than  we  do  of  that  very  ancient  invention  of  our  fore- 
fathers,— a  more  original  invention,  let  me  say,  parenthet- 
ically, than  it  may  seem, — in  showing  us  the  diminished 
mortality  of  married  men  in  comparision  with  bachelors  of 
a  corresponding  age.  But  I  must  not  linger  on  this  deli- 
cate subject. 

The  second  of  the  two  problems  which  I  have  just  noted 
and  which  seem  to  me  to  impose  themselves  upon  the  statis- 


H2  Laws  of  Imitation 

tician,  cannot  be  solved  before  the  first.  It  is  perhaps  well  to 
note  this  fact.  Are  we  not  putting  the  cart  before  the  horse 
when  we  try  to  calculate,  as  we  often  do,  the  influence  of 
certain  punishments,  for  example,  or  religious  beliefs  or  of 
a  certain  kind  of  education  upon  criminal  tendencies  before 
we  have  measured  the  force  of  these  tendencies  in  free  play, 
in  the  days  of  mob  rule,  when  the  populations  are  uncon- 
trolled by  police  or  priest  or  teacher,  and  turn  to  arson, 
murder,  and  pillage,  deeds  which  are  at  once  imitated  from 
one  end  of  a  country  to  the  other  ? 

The  preliminary  operation,  then,  would  be  the  prepara- 
tion of  a  table  of  our  principal  innate  or  gradually  acquired 
desires,  beginning  with  the  social  desire  to  marry  or  have 
children,  and  of  our  principal  old  or  new  beliefs;  or,  which 
is  one  and  the  same  thing,  of  certain  families  of  acts,  be- 
longing to  a  single  type,  and  expressing,  with  more  or 
less  exactness,  its  intrinsic  powers.  In  this  connection,  com- 
mercial and  industrial  statistics,  statistics  that  become  so 
interesting  from  the  above  standpoint,  are  of  especial  value. 
Does  not  every  article  which  is  made  or  sold,  correspond, 
in  fact,  to  some  special  desire  or  idea  ?  Does  not  the  prog- 
ress of  its  sale  and  manufacture  at  a  given  time  and  place 
express  its  motor  power,  i.  e.,  its  rate  of  propagation,  as 
well  as  its  mass,  as  it  were,  i.  e.,  its  importance?  Statistics 
of  commerce  and  industry  are,  then,  the  main  foundation 
of  all  other  statistics.  Better  still,  if  the  thing  were 
practicable,  would  be  the  application,  on  a  larger  scale, 
to  the  living,  of  the  method  of  investigation  which  arch- 
aeology uses  in  relation  to  the  dead.  I  mean  a  precise 
and  complete  house-to-house  inventory  of  all  the  furniture 
in  a  given  country  and  the  annual  numerical  variations  in 
all  of  its  different  kinds  of  furniture.  This  would  give  us 
an  excellent  photograph  of  our  social  condition;  it  would 
be  somewhat  analogous  to  the  admirable  pictures  of  extinct 
civilisations  which  the  delvers  into  the  past  have  made  in 
their  careful  inventories  of  the  contents  of  the  tombs,  the 
houses  of  the  dead,  of  Egypt,  Italy,  Asia  Minor,  and 
America. 


Archeology  and  Statistics  113 

But  in  the  absence  of  such  an  inquisitorial  census  as  I 
have  in  mind  and  of  the  glass  houses  which  it  presupposes, 
complete  and  systematic  statistics  of  commerce  and  indus- 
try, and,  particularly,  statistics  of  publications  showing  us 
the  relative  changes  in  the  annual  publication  of  different 
kinds  of  books,  suffice  to  give  us  the  needed  data.  Theoret- 
ically, judicial  statistics  take  a  second  place,  and  it  must  be 
admitted  that,  although  in  one  way  they  are  more  pro- 
foundly interesting,  in  another,  they  are  inferior.  Their 
units  lack  similarity.  If  I  am  told  that  during  the  current 
year  a  certain  furnace  has  turned  out  one  million  steel  rails 
or  that  a  given  manufactory  is  in  receipt  of  ten  thousand 
bales  of  cotton,  I  have  to  deal  with  like  units  representing  like 
wants.  But  it  would  be  idle  to  divide  thefts,  for  example,  or 
distraints  into  classes  and  sub-classes;  we  should  never 
succeed  in  keeping  distinct  acts  which  are  quite  dissimilar, 
inspired  as  they  are  by  different  wants  and  ideas,  proceed- 
ing from  different  origins  and  belonging,  in  this  way,  to 
many  different  classes  of  activity.  The  most  one  could  do 
would  be  to  make  a  separate  column  for  the  assassinations 
of  women  by  mutilation  or  poisonings  by  strychnine  or  other 
offences  of  recent  contrivance  which  really  fall  into  one 
group  and  constitute  certain  characteristic  criminal 
fashions.  Felonies  and  misdemeanours  should  properly  be 
classified  according  to  their  methods  of  execution.  Then 
the  empire  of  imitation  in  such  matters  could  be  seen.  It 
would  be  necessary  to  descend  to  details.  If  crimes  could 
be  classified  according  to  the  nature  of  the  prize  at  stake,  or 
of  the  hardship  eliminated,  we  should  have  a  different  and 
yet  a  natural  kind  of  classification  which  would  reproduce 
under  a  new  form  a  classification  of  the  industrial  articles  or 
services  whose  purchase  procures  for  honest  people  corre- 
sponding satisfactions. 


ii4  Laws  of  Imitation 


When  the  field  of  sociological  statistics  has  been  clearly 
defined,  when  the  curves  relating  to  the  propagation,  that  is 
to  say,  to  the  consolidation  as  well,  of  every  special  want 
and  opinion,  for  a  certain  number  of  years  and  over  a  certain 
stretch  of  country,  have  been  plainly  traced,  the  interpreta- 
tion of  these  hieroglyphic  curves,  curves  that  are  at  times  as 
strange  and  picturesque  as  mountain  profiles,  more  often 
as  sinuous  and  graceful  as  living  forms,  has  still  to  be  made. 
I  am  very  much  mistaken  if  our  point  of  view  will  not 
prove  very  helpful  here.  The  lines  in  question  are  always 
ascending  or  horizontal  or  descending,  or,  if  they  are  ir- 
regular, they  can  always  be  decomposed  in  the  same  way  into 
three  kinds  of  linear  elements,  into  inclines,  plateaux,  and 
declines.  According  to  Quetelet  and  his  school,  the  pla- 
teaux would  belong  pre-eminently  to  the  statistician;  their 
discovery  should  be  his  finest  triumph  and  the  constant 
object  of  his  ambition.  According  to  this  view,  the  most 
fitting  foundation  for  a  social  physics  would  be  the  uniform 
reproduction,  during  a  considerable  period,  of  the  same  num- 
ber, not  only  of  births  and  marriages,  but  also  of  crimes  and 
litigations.  Hence  the  error  (it  no  longer  exists,  to  be  sure, 
thanks,  especially,  to  recent  official  statistics  concerning  the 
progressive  criminality  of  the  last  half-century),  of 
thinking  that  the  latter  figures  have,  in  reality,  been 
uniformly  reproduced.  But  if  the  reader  has  taken  the 
trouble  to  follow  me,  he  will  realise  that,  without  detract- 
ing at  all  from  the  importance  of  the  horizontal  lines, 
the  ascending  lines,  indicating  as  they  do  the  regular 
spread  of  some  kind  of  imitation,  have  a  far  higher  theoret- 
ical value.  The  reason  is  this:  The  fact  that  a  new  taste 
or  idea  has  taken  root  in  a  mind  which  is  constituted 
in  a  certain  fashion  carries  with  it  no  reason  why  this  inno- 
vation should  not  spread  more  or  less  rapidly  through  an 
indefinite  number  of  supposedly  like  minds  in  communi- 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  115 

cation  with  one  another.  It  would  spread  instantane- 
ously through  all  these  minds  if  they  were  absolutely 
alike  and  if  their  intercommunication  were  perfect.  It  is 
this  ideal,  an  ideal  that  is  happily  beyond  realisation,  that  we 
are  fast  approaching.  The  rapid  diffusion  of  telephones  in 
America  from  the  moment  of  their  first  appearance  there 
is  one  proof  in  point.  This  ideal  is  almost  reached  already 
in  the  matter  of  legislative  innovations.  Laws  or  de- 
crees which  were  once  slowly  and  laboriously  administered 
in  one  province  after  another  are  to-day  executed  from 
one  end  to  the  other  of  a  state  the  very  day  of  their  pas- 
sage or  promulgation.  This  occurs  because  in  this  case 
there  is  no  hindrance  whatsoever.  Lack  of  communication 
in  social  physics  plays  the  same  role  as  lack  of  elasticity  in 
physics.  The  one  hinders  imitation  as  much  as  the  other, 
vibration.  But  the  imitative  spread  of  certain  well-known 
inventions  (railroads,  telegraphs,  etc.),  tends  to  diminish, 
to  the  benefit  of  every  other  invention,  this  insufficiency  of 
mental  contact.  As  for  mental  dissimilarity,  it  likewise 
tends  to  be  effaced  by  the  spread  of  wants  and  ideas  which 
have  arisen  from  past  inventions  and  whose  work  of  as- 
similation in  this  way  facilitates  the  propagation  of  future 
inventions.  I  mean  of  future  non-contradictory  inventions. 
When  wants  or  ideas  are  once  started,  they  always 
tend  to  continue  to  spread  of  themselves  in  a  true  geometric 
progression.1  This  is  the  ideal  scheme  to  which  their  curve 
would  conform  if  they  could  spread  without  mutual  obstruc- 
tion. But  as  such  checks  are,  at  one  time  or  another,  inevita- 
ble, and  as  they  continue  to  increase,  every  one  of  these  social 
forces  must  eventually  run  up  against  a  wall  which  for  the 
time  being  is  insurmoutable  and  must  through  accident, 
not  at  all  through  natural  necessity,  fall  temporarily  into 
that  static  condition  whose  meaning  statisticians  in  general 

1  At  the  same  time,  they  tend  to  entrench  themselves,  and  their  prog- 
ress extensively  hastens  their  progress  intensively.  Let  us  note, 
incidentally,  that  there  is  no  past  or  present  enthusiasm  or  fanaticism 
of  historic  importance  that  cannot  be  explained  through  this  interaction 
of  the  imitation  of  self  with  the  imitation  of  others. 


1 1 6  Laws  of  Imitation 

appear  to  so  little  understand.  In  this  case,  as  in  all  others, 
a  static  condition  means  equilibrium,  a  joint  standstill  of 
concurrent  forces.  I  am  far  from  denying  the  theoretic  in- 
terest of  this  state,  because  these  equilibria  are  equivalent  to 
equations.  If,  for  example,  I  see  that  the  consumption  of 
coffee  or  chocolate  has  ceased  to  increase  in  a  certain  country 
at  a  certain  date,  I  know  that  the  strength  of  the  desire  there 
for  coffee  or  chocolate  is  exactly  equal  to  that  of  certain  rival 
desires  which  would  have  to  remain  unsatisfied,  considering 
the  average  fortune,  by  a  more  ample  satisfaction  of  the 
former.  The  price  of  every  article  is  determined  in  this 
way.  But  does  not  every  one  of  the  annual  figures  in  pro- 
gressive series  or  slopes  also  express  an  equation  between 
the  strength,  at  a  certain  date,  of  the  desire  in  question  and 
the  strength  of  competing  desires  which  hindered  its  further 
development  at  the  same  date?  Moreover,  if  progression 
ceased  at  one  point  rather  than  at  another,  if  the  plateau  is 
neither  higher  nor  lower  than  it  is,  is  it  not  because  of  a 
mere  accident  of  history,  that  is  to  say,  because  of  the  fact 
that  the  opposing  invention,  from  which  arose  the  antago- 
nistic wants  that  barred  the  progress  in  question,  appeared  at 
one  time  and  place  rather  than  at  another,  or  because  of  the 
fact  that  it  actually  did  appear  instead  of  not  appearing  at 
all? 

Plateaux,  let  me  add,  are  always  unstable  equilibria.  After 
an  approximately  horizontal  position  has  been  sustained  for 
a  more  or  less  prolonged  time,  the  curve  begins  to  rise  or  fall, 
the  series  begins  to  grow  or  diminish  with  the  appearance  of 
new  auxiliary  and  confirmatory  or  antagonistic  and  contra- 
dictory inventions.  As  for  diminishing  series,  they  are 
merely,  as  we  see,  the  result  of  successful  growths  which 
have  suppressed  some  declining  public  taste  or  opinion  which 
was  once  in  vogue;  they  do  not  deserve  the  attention  of  the 
theorist  except  as  the  other  side  of  the  picture  of  the  grow- 
ing series  which  they  presuppose. 

Let  me  also  state  that  whenever  the  statistician  is  able  to 
lay  hold  of  the  origin  of  an  invention  and  to  trace  out  year  by 
year  its  numerical  career,  he  shows  us  curves  which,  for  a 


Archeology  and  Statitiscs  117 

certain  time,  at  least,  are  constantly  rising,  and  rising,  too, 
although  for  a  much  shorter  period,  with  great  regularity. 
If  this  perfect  regularity  fail  to  continue,  it  is  for  reasons 
which  I  will  shortly  indicate.  But  when  very  ancient  in- 
ventions like  monogamy  or  Christian  marriage  are  under 
consideration,  inventions  which  have  had  time  to  pass 
through  their  progressive  period  and  which  have  rounded 
out,  so  to  speak,  their  whole  sphere  of  imitation,  we  ought 
not  to  be  surprised  if  Statistics,  in  its  ignorance  of  their  be- 
ginnings, represents  them  by  horizontal  lines  that  show 
scarce  a  deviation.  In  view  of  this,  there  is  nothing  aston- 
ishing in  the  fact  that  the  proportion  of  the  annual  number 
of  marriages  to  the  total  population  remains  about  constant 
(except  in  France,  I  may  say,  where  there  is  a  gradual  dim- 
inution in  this  proportion)  or  even  in  the  fact  that  the  in- 
fluence of  marriage  upon  crime  or  suicide  is  expressed  each 
year  by  pretty  much  the  same  figures.  Here  we  are  dealing 
with  ancient  institutions  which  have  passed  into  the  blood 
of  a  people  just  like  the  natural  factors  of  climate,  seasons, 
temperament,  sex,  and  age,  which  influence  the  mass  of 
human  acts  with  such  striking  uniformity  (which  has  been 
greatly  exaggerated,  however,  as  it  is  much  more  circum- 
scribed than  is  generally  supposed)  and  with  a  regularity 
that  is  also  remarkable,  in  quite  a  different  way,  again,  in 
connection  with  vital  phenomena  like  death  and  disease. 

And  yet,  what  do  we  find  at  the  bottom  of  even  these  uni- 
form series?  Let  us  see;  the  digression  will  be  brief.  Statis- 
tics have  shown,  for  example,  that  the  death  rate  from  one  to 
five  years  of  age  is  always  three  times  greater  in  the  littoral 
departments  of  the  Mediterranean  than  in  the  rest  of  France, 
or,  at  any  rate,  than  in  more  favoured  departments.  The  ex- 
planation of  this  fact  is  found,  it  seems,  in  the  extreme  heat 
of  the  Provencal  climate  during  summer.  This  season  is  as 
harmful  to  early  infancy  (another  statistical  revelation  con- 
trary to  current  opinion)  as  winter  is  to  old  age.  At  any 
rate,  climate  intervenes  in  this  instance,  as  a  constant  and 
fixed  cause.  But  what  is  climate  but  a  nominal  entity  by 
which  a  certain  group  of  realities  is  expressed,  to  wit :  the 


1 1 8  Laws  of  Imitation 

sun,  a  radiation  of  light  which  tends  towards  indefinite  ex- 
pansion in  unbounded  space  and  which  the  earth-obstacle 
opposes  and  checks;  the  winds,  i.  e.,  fragments  of  more  or 
less  well  demarcated  cyclones  which  are  continually  striving 
to  swell  themselves  out  and  reach  over  the  entire  globe  and 
which  are  held  in  check  only  by  mountain  chains  or  counter 
whirlwinds;  altitude,  the  effect  of  up-pushing  subterranean 
forces  which  hoped  for  an  endless  expansion  of  the  happily 
resistant  crust  of  the  earth;  latitude,  the  effect  of  the  rota- 
tion of  the  still  fluid  terrestial  globe  in  its  vain  efforts  at 
further  contraction;  the  nature  of  the  earth,  that  is,  of 
molecules  whose  but  partially  satisfied  affinities  are  engaged 
in  fruitless  activity  and  whose  power  of  attraction,  venting 
itself  over  any  distance,  strives  for  impossible  contacts; 
finally,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  earth's  flora,  its  various  veg- 
etal species  or  varieties,  each  of  which,  from  discontent  with 
its  own  habitat,  would  cover  the  entire  surface  of  the  globe 
except  for  the  restraint  imposed  upon  its  avidity  by  the 
rivalry  of  all  the  others. 

I  might  just  as  well  say  of  age,  sex,  and  other  influences 
of  nature  what  I  have  said  of  climate.  In  short,  all  external 
realities,  whether  physical  or  vital,  display  the  same  infinite 
unrealised  and  unreali sable  ambitions,  ambitions  that  re- 
ciprocally stimulate  and  paralyse  one  another.  The  thing 
in  them  that  we  call  the  fixity  or  immutability  of  the  laws  of 
nature,  the  supreme  reality,  is,  at  bottom,  only  their  inabil- 
ity to  travel  further  in  their  strictly  natural  course  and  real- 
ise themselves  more  fully.  Well,  this  is  also  true  of  the  fixed 
(the  momentarily  fixed)  influences  which  Statistics  discovers 
or  pretends  to  discover  in  the  social  order;  for  social  realities, 
ideas  and  desires,  are  not  less  ambitious  than  others,  and  it 
is  into  them  that  analysis  resolves  those  social  entities  which 
are  called  customs,  institutions,  language,  legislation,  reli- 
gion, science,  industry,  and  art.  The  oldest  of  these  things, 
those  past  adolescence,  have  ceased  to  grow;  but  the  younger 
are  still  developing.  One  proof  of  this,  among  others,  is 
seen  in  the  incessant  swelling  of  our  budgets.  They  have 
enlarged,  and  will  continue  to  enlarge  until  some  final  catas- 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  .     119 

trophe  occur  which  will  be,  in  turn,  the  point  of  departure 
for  a  renewed  increase  which  will  end  in  the  same  way,  and 
so  on  indefinitely.  Without  going  back  of  1819,  from  that 
date  to  1869  the  amount  of  indirect  taxes  has  arisen  very  reg- 
ularly from  544  to  1323  millions  of  francs.  When  thirty- 
three  or  thirty-seven  millions  of  men, — thirty-three  in  1819, 
thirty-seven  in  1869, — have  increasing  wants  because  they 
are  copying  one  another  more  and  more,  they  must  produce 
and  consume  more  and  more  in  order  to  satisfy  their  wants, 
and  it  is  inevitable  that  their  public  expenditures  should  in- 
crease in  proportion  to  their  private  expenditures.1 

If  our  European  civilisation  had  long  ago  put  forth,  like 
Chinese  civilisation,  all  that  it  was  able  to  in  the  matters  of 
invention  and  discovery,  if,  while  living  upon  its  old  capital, 
it  was  exclusively  composed  of  old  wants  and  ideas,  without 
the  slightest  new  addition  whatsoever,  Quetelet's  wish 
would  probably,  in  accordance  with  what  has  preceded,  be 
fulfilled. 

If  statistics  were  applied  to  every  aspect  of  our  social  life, 
they  would  lead  in  all  cases  to  certain  uniform  series, 
which  would  unroll  horizontally  and  which  would  be  quite 
analogous  to  the  famous  "  laws  of  nature."  It  is  perhaps 
because  Nature  is  much  older  than  we,  and  because  she  has 
had  the  requisite  time  in  which  to  bring  to  this  state  of  in- 
ventive exhaustion  all  her  own  civilisations — I  mean  her 
living  types  (true  cellular  societies,  as  we  know) — that  we 
ascribe  to  her  the  fixity  and  permanence  that  we  praise  so 
highly.  This  is  the  reason  for  that  fine  and  so  much  ad- 
mired periodicity  of  the  figures  given  by  sociologico-physio>- 
logical  Statistics,  so  to  speak,  which  obstinately  insists  upon 
emphasising  the  constantly  uniform  influences  of  age  or  sex 
upon  criminality  or  nuptiality.  We  could  be  certain  in 
advance  of  such  regularity,  just  as  we  could  be  sure,  if 

1  This  increase  is  not  peculiar  to  the  nineteenth  century.  M.  Dela- 
hante  says  (Une  famille  de  finances  an  XVI I Ie  siecle)  that  under  the 
ancient  regime  "  the  ferme  generate  brought  in  to  the  government  a 
steadily  increasing  revenue  of  from  one  hundred  to  one  hundred  and 
sixty  millions.  [I,  195,  Paris,  1880. — Tr.] 


1 20  Laws  of  Imitation 

we  classified  criminals  as  nervous,  bilious,  lymphatic,  or 
sanguine,  or,  who  knows,  even  as  blondes  or  brunettes,  that 
the  annual  participation  of  each  of  these  groups  in  the  annual 
perpetration  of  crime  would  be  seen  to  be  always  the  same. 

Perhaps  I  had  better  draw  attention  to  the  fact  that  cer- 
tain statistical  regularities  which  seem  to  be  of  another  kind 
belong,  at  bottom,  to  the  above-mentioned  group.  For  ex- 
ample, why  for  the  last  fifty  years,  at  least,  have  the  convic- 
tions of  police  courts  been  appealed  nearly  at  the  rate  of 
forty-five  per  thousand,  whereas,  during  the  same  period, 
the  public  prosecutor  has  been  steadily  cutting  down  the 
number  of  his  appeals  to  one-half?  This  decrease  in 
the  government's  appeals  is  the  direct  effect  of  increas- 
ing imitation  in  the  legal  profession.  But  how  can 
the  numerical  standstill  in  the  matter  of  prisoners'  appeals 
be  explained?  Let  us  observe  that  when  the  man  who 
has  been  sentenced  is  considering  whether  or  not  he  should 
carry  his  case  to  a  higher  court  he  is  not  usually  in- 
fluenced by  what  other  men  like  himself  are  doing  or  would 
do  under  similar  circumstances.  He  is  generally  ignorant 
about  such  examples.  He  pays  even  less  attention  to  the 
statistics  that  would  prove  to  him  that  courts  of  appeal  are 
becoming  more  and  more  inclined  to  confirm  the  decisions 
of  the  lower  courts.  But,  other  things  being  equal  (that  is, 
reasons  for  hope  or  fear,  based  upon  the  circumstances  of 
the  case,  having  on  an  average  the  same  annual  weight),  it 
is  the  degree  of  boldness  in  the  man's  nature  which  influences 
him  either  to  fear  failure  or  hope  for  success,  thereby 
making  him  act  in  one  way  or  the  other.  Here,  again,  as 
an  additional  weight  in  the  balance  is  the  definite  quantity 
of  daring  and  self-confidence  which  goes  to  make  up  the 
usual  temperament  of  delinquents  and  which  necessarily 
finds  expression  as  such  in  the  uniform  proportion  of  their 
appeals. 

The  error  made  by  Quetelet  may  be  explained  historically. 
The  first  attempts  of  Statistics  were  concerned,  to  be  sure, 
with  population,  that  is,  with  the  birth,  death,  and  marriage 
rates  that  prevailed  among  both  sexes  at  different  ages  and 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  121 

in  different  places,  and,  as  these  effects  of  climatic  and 
physiological  or  of  very  ancient  social  causes  naturally  gave 
rise  to  regular  repetitions  of  almost  constant  figures,  the 
mistake  was  made  of  generalising  observations  that  subse- 
quently proved  false.  And  thus  it  was  possible  for  statistics, 
whose  regularity  only  expresses,  at  bottom,  the  imitative 
bondage  of  the  masses  to  the  individual  fancies  or  concep- 
tions of  superior  individuals,  to  be  called  upon  to  confirm 
the  current  prejudice  that  the  general  facts  of  social  life  are 
determined,  not  by  human  minds  and  wills,  but  by  certain 
myths  that  are  called  natural  laws ! 

And  yet  statistics  of  population  should  have  opened  our 
eyes  by  this  time.  The  total  of  population  never  remains 
stationary  in  any  country;  it  increases  or  decreases  at  a  rate 
which  is  singularly  variable  among  different  peoples  and  in 
different  centuries.  How  can  this  fact  be  explained  on  the 
hypothesis  of  social  physics?  How  can  we  ourselves  ex- 
plain it  ?  Here  we  have  a  need  which  is  certainly  very  old, 
the  need  of  paternity,  the  extent  of  whose  rise  or  fall  finds 
an  eloquent  expression  in  the  annual  birth  rate.  Now, 
statistics  show  that,  old  as  it  is,  it  is  subject  to  enormous 
oscillations,  and  if  we  consult  history,  the  history  of  France, 
for  example,  it  reveals  to  us  a  succession,  in  the  past, 
of  gradual  and  alternating  depopulations  and  repopulations 
of  territory.  The  fact  is  that  this  attribute  of  age  is  purely 
fictitious.  The  natural  and  instinctive  desire  for  fatherhood 
is  one  thing  and  the  social,  imitative,  and  rational  desire, 
another.  The  former  may  be  constant;  but  the  latter, 
which  is  grafted  upon  the  former  at  every  great  change  of 
customs,  laws,  or  religions,  is  subject  to  periodic  fluctuation 
and  renewal.  Economists  err  in  confounding  the  two,  or, 
rather,  in  considering  the  former  only,  whereas,  it  is  the 
latter  which  is  alone  important  to  the  sociologist. 

Now,  there  are  as  many  new  and  distinct  desires  of  the 
latter  kind  for  paternity  as  there  are  distinct  and  successive 
motives  because  of  which  the  social  man  desires  to  have 
children.  And  we  always  find  certain  practical  discoveries 
or  theoretic  conceptions  in  explanation  of  the  origin  of  each 


122  Laws  of  Imitation 

of  these  motives.  The  Spanish-American  or  Anglo-Saxon 
is  prolific  because  he  has  America  to  people.  If  Christo- 
pher Columbus  had  made  no  discovery,  what  millions  of 
men  would  have  remained  unborn!  The  insular  English- 
man is  prolific  because  he  has  a  third  of  the  globe  to  colonise, 
a  direct  consequence  of  the  series  of  fortunate  explorations, 
of  the  traits  of  maritime  and  warlike  genius,  and,  above  all, 
of  the  personal  initiatives,  not  to  speak  of  other  causes,  that 
won  for  him  his  colonies.  In  Ireland  the  introduction  of  the 
potato  raised  the  population  from  three  millions  in  1766,  to 
eight  million  three  hundred  thousand  in  1845.  The  an- 
cient Aryan  desired  descendants  in  order  that  his  altar-flame 
might  never  be  extinguished,  nor  the  altar  ever  fail  to  receive 
its  sacred  libation;  for  he  was  persuaded  by  his  religion 
that  its  extinction  would  bring  misfortune  to  his  soul.  The 
zealous  Christian  dreams  of  being  the  head  of  a  numerous 
family  in  docile  obedience  to  the  multiplicamini  of  his  Bible. 
To  the  early  Roman  to  have  children  meant  to  give  warriors 
to  the  Republic,  a  republic  which  would  never  have  existed 
but  for  that  group  of  inventions,  of  military  and  political  in- 
stitutions of  Etruscan,  Sabine,  and  Latin  origin,  which 
Rome  exploited.  To  develop  mines,  railroads,  and  cotton 
mills  is  to  give  new  hands  to  the  industries  that  are  born  of 
modern  inventions.  Christopher  Columbus,  Watt,  Fulton, 
Stephenson,  Ampere,  Parmentier,  can  pass,  whether  celi- 
bates or  not,  for  the  greatest  of  all  the  multipliers  of  the 
human  species  that  have  ever  existed. 

Let  me  stop  here;  I  have  said  enough  to  make  myself 
clear.  It  is  possible  that  fathers  will  always  regard  their 
actual  children  from  the  same  point  of  view,  but  they  will 
certainly  consider  their  potential  children  quite  differently 
according  to  whether,  like  the  ancient  pater  familias,  they 
look  upon  them  as  domestic  slaves  without  any  ultimate 
rights,  or  whether,  like  Europeans  of  to-day,  they  think  of 
them  as  the  perhaps  exacting  masters  and  creditors  to 
whom  they  themselves  may  some  day  be  enslaved.  This  is  a 
result  of  the  difference  in  customs  and  laws  which  wants  and 
ideas  have  made.  We  see  that  here,  as  elsewhere,  individual 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  123 

initiatives  and  their  contagious  imitations,  have  accom- 
plished everything,  socially,  I  mean.  Thousands  of  centu- 
ries ago  the  human  species  might  have  been  reduced  to  a 
negligible  number  of  individuals  and,  like  bear  or  bison,have 
ceased  to  progress,  had  not  some  man  of  genius  arrived 
from  tim.e  to  time,  in  the  course  of  history,  to  stimulate  its 
reproductive  power,  either  by  opening  new  outlets  to  human 
activity  through  industry  or  colonisation  or,  as  a  religious 
reformer,  like  Luther,  by  reviving  or,  rather,  by  rejuvenating 
in  an  entirely  new  form  the  religious  zeal  of  the  community 
and  its  general  belief  in  Providence  as  the  protector  of  all  the 
birds  of  the  air.  Every  stimulus  of  this  kind  may  be  said  to 
have  aroused  a  fresh  desire,  in  the  social  sense,  for  paternity, 
and  this  desire  was  added  to,  or  substituted  for,  preceding 
desires,  the  former  more  often  than  the  latter,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded, in  its  turn,  along  its  own  line  of  development. 

Now,  let  us  take  one  of  these  purely  social  desires  for  pro- 
creation in  its  inception  and  let  us  follow  its  course.  Such  an 
example  will  serve  as  well  as  another  to  develop  the  general 
law  which  I  am  about  to  formulate.  Suppose  that  in  the 
midst  of  a  population  which  has  been  stationary  for  a  long 
time  because  the  desire  for  children  has  been  exactly  coun- 
terbalanced by  a  fear  of  the  greater  misery  which  their  mul- 
tiplication would  entail,  the  report  is  suddenly  spread  abroad 
that  the  discovery  and  conquest  of  a  great  island  by  a  com- 
patriot has  secured  to  people  a  new  means  of  enlarging  their 
families  without  impoverishing  themselves,  with  an  increase 
of  wealth,  in  fact,  to  themselves.  As  this  news  travels  and 
is  confirmed,  the  desire  for  paternity  redoubles,  that  is,  the 
pre-existent  desire  is  redoubled  by  the  addition  of  a  new  de- 
sire. But  the  latter  is  not  satisfied  at  once.  It  has  to  con- 
tend with  a  whole  tribe  of  rooted  habits  and  antique 
practices  which  have  given  birth  to  a  general  belief  that  ac- 
climatisation in  such  a  distant  land  is  impossible  and  death 
from  famine,  or  fever,  or  homesickness,  a  certainty.  Many 
years  must  elapse  before  this  pervasive  opposition  can  be 
generally  overcome.  Then  a  current  of  emigration  sets  in, 
and  the  colonists,  set  free  from  prejudice,  begin  to  indulge 


124  Laws  of  Imitation 

in  extreme  fecundity.  At  this  time  the  tendency  towards  a 
geometric  progression  which  governs  not  merely  the  desire 
to  procreate,  but  all  other  desires  as  well,  is  actualised  and, 
to  a  certain  extent,  satisfied.  But  this  period  does  not  last. 
The  increase  in  the  birth  rate  soon  falls  off  because  of  the 
very  development  of  prosperity  which  accompanies  it. 
Needs  of  luxury,  of  leisure,  and  of  a  fancied  independence 
which  it  has  itself  created  encroach  upon  it  day  by  day. 
When  they  reach  a  certain  point  the  ultra-civilised  man  is 
placed  in  the  dilemma  of  choosing  between  the  joys  offered 
by  them  and  the  joys  of  a  numerous  family.  If  he  choose 
the  former,  he  renounces  the  latter.  Hence  an  inevitable 
arrest  of  the  progression  in  question.  Then,  if  an  extreme 
kind  of  civilisation  continue,  a  depopulation  sets  in  like  that 
which  occurred  in  the  Roman  Empire,  and  like  that 
which  modern  Europe  and  even  America  are  bound  some 
day  to  experience.  But  a  depopulation  like  this  never  has 
gone  and  never  will  go  very  far,  because  of  the  fact  that  if 
it  were  to  pass  beyond  a  certain  limit,  it  would  bring  about 
a  setback  to  civilisation  and  a  diminution  in  the  desire  for 
luxury  which  would  again  raise  the  level  of  population. 
Therefore,  if  nothing  new  occur,  the  establishment,  after 
some  oscillations,  of  a  static  condition  will  necessarily  be 
maintained  until  some  new  order  of  chance  or  genius  takes 
place. 

We  need  not  fear  to  generalise  this  observation.  Since 
it  applies  to  such  an  apparently  primitive  desire  as  that  for 
paternity,  how  much  more  readily  would  it  apply  to  the  so- 
called  needs  of  luxury,  all  of  which  are  plainly  the  result  of 
discovery,  to  the  desire,  for  example,  for  locomotion  by 
steam.  Although  this  desire  was  at  first  restrained  by  fear 
of  accidents  and  by  the  habit  of  sedentary  life,  its  successful 
development  was  not  delayed  until  it  came  into  contact,  in 
our  own  day,  with  the  more  redoubtable  adversaries  that  it 
had  itself,  in  part,  created  and  encouraged.  I  mean  the  need 
for  the  thousand  various  satisfactions  of  civilised  life  but 
for  the  satisfaction  of  which  the  pleasure  of  travel  could  not 
fail  to  increase  indefinitely.  The  same  remark  applies  as 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  125 

truly,  although  less  obviously,  to  desires  of  a  higher  order, 
to  the  desire  for  equality,  or  for  political  liberty,  or,  let  me 
add,  for  truth.  These  desires,  the  third  included,  are  of 
fairly  recent  origin.  The  first  arose  from  the  humanistic 
and  rationalistic  philosophy  of  the  eighteenth  century;  the 
second,  from  English  parliamentarism.  The  sources  and 
leaders  of  the  first  movement  we  know,  and,  without  going 
back  very  far,  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  name  the  successive 
inventors  and  promotors  of  the  second.  As  for  the  desire 
for  truth,  this  torment,  if  we  are  to  believe  M.  Dubois-Rey- 
mond,  was  unknown  to  classic  antiquity, — a  lack  which  ex- 
plains the  strange  inferiority  in  science  and  industry  of  that 
brilliant  and  otherwise  eminently  gifted  period;  it  was  the 
peculiar  fruit  of  Christianity,  of  that  spiritual  religion 
which,  in  exacting  faith  even  more  than  deeds,  and  faith 
in  accredited  historic  facts,  teaches  man  the  high  value 
of  truth.  Thus  Christianity  gave  birth  to  its  great  rival, 
to  science,  the  modern  check  upon  its  heretofore  trium- 
phant propagation.  Science  dates  barely  from  the  sixteenth 
century,  when  the  love  of  truth,  great  as  it  was,  was  confined 
to  a  small  band  of  devotees.  It  has  been  widening  its  bound- 
aries ever  since  then.  But  already  there  are  clear  signs  that 
the  twentieth  century  will  not  be  as  absorbed  in  disinterested 
curiosity  as  the  three  centuries  which  preceded  it.  And  it 
may  be  safely  predicted  that  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when 
the  need  for  well-being,  which  industry,  the  child  of  science, 
is  developing  without  limitation,  will  suppress  scientific  zeal 
and  will  lead  coming  generations  to  a  utilitarian  sacrifice  of 
their  free  and  individualistic  worship  of  hopeless  truth  to  the 
social  need  for  some  common  and,  perhaps,  state-imposed 
consoling  and  comforting  illusion.  And  it  is  certain  that 
neither  our  already  much  diminished  thirst  for  political 
liberty  nor  our  present  passion  for  equality  will  escape  a 
similar  fate. 

Perhaps  the  same  thing  should  be  said  of  desire  for  pri- 
vate property.  Without  adopting  all  the  ideas  of  M.  de 
Laveleye  on  this  subject  we  must  recognise  the  facts  that  this 
desire,  one  which  arose  from  a  group  of  agricultural  inven- 


126  Laws  of  Imitation 

tions  and  which  is  a  prime  agent  in  civilisation,  was  pre- 
ceded by  a  desire  for  common  property  (the  North  Ameri- 
can pueblos,  the  Hindoo  village-community,  the  Russian 
mir,  etc. )  ;  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  has  not  ceased  to  grow 
up  to  the  present  day  at  the  expense  of  the  latter  desire,  as 
is  proved  by  the  gradual  division  of  undivided  property,  of 
our  common  lands,  for  example;  that  it  is  no  longer  growing, 
however,  and  that  when  it  once  enters  into  competition  with 
desire  for  superior  subsistence  and  for  more  general  well- 
being,  it  will  withdraw  before  the  rival  to  which  it  itself 
gave  birth. 

Every  new  belief  as  well  as  every  social  desire  passes,  as  it 
spreads,  through  the  three  phases  that  I  have  described,  be- 
fore reaching  its  final  resting  place.  To  sum  up,  then,  every 
desire  or  belief  has  first  to  toil  through  a  network  of  con- 
trary habits  or  convictions,  then,  after  this  obstacle  is  over- 
come and  victory  won,  it  has  to  expand  until  new  enemies 
are  raised  up  by  its  triumph  to  hinder  its  progress  and 
finally  to  oppose  an  insurmountable  frontier  to  its  further 
spread.  In  the  case  of  a  desire,  these  new  enemies  will 
consist  mainly  of  habits  which  it  has  directly  or  indirectly 
established.  In  the  case  of  a  belief,  which  we  know  is  always 
partly  erroneous,  they  will  consist  of  somewhat  conflicting 
ideas  which  have  been  derived  from  it  or  whose  discovery 
has  been  prompted  by  it,  of  heresies  or  of  sciences  proceed- 
ing from  and  yet  contrary  to  the  given  dogma  whose  vic- 
torious and  world-wide  course  is  thereby  arrested,  and  of 
scientific  theories  or  of  industrial  inventions  which  have 
been  suggested  by  antecedent  theories  whose  application 
is  limited  and  whose  truth  or  success  is  hemmed  in  by  them.1 

1  When  a  befief  or  desire  has  ceased  to  spread,  it  can  nevertheless 
continue  to  send  down  roots  into  its  circumscribed  field.  Take,  for 
example,  a  religion,  or  a  revolutionary  doctrine,  after  its  period  of  con- 
quest. Besides,  a  gradual  taking-root  of  this  kind  presents,  like  the 
gradual  expansion  which  it  follows  or  accompanies,  certain  well-defined 
and  analogous  phases.  In  the  beginning,  when  belief  is  still  contested, 
it  is  conscious  judgment;  just  as  nascent  desire  is,  for  the  same  reason, 
purpose  or  volition.  Subsequently,  thanks  to  an  unanimity  which  grows 
and  which  strengthens  the  convictions  and  volitions  of  each  individual, 


Archasology  and  Statistics  127 

A  slow  advance  in  the  beginning,  followed  by  rapid  and 
uniformly  accelerated  progress,  followed  again  by  progress 
that  continues  to  slacken  until  it  finally  stops :  these,  then, 
are  the  three  ages  of  those  real  social  beings  which  I  call 
inventions  or  discoveries.  None  of  them  is  exempt  from 
this  experience  any  more  than  a  living  being  from  an  an- 
alogous, or,  rather,  identical,  necessity.  A  slight  incline,  a 
relatively  sharp  rise,  and  then  a  fresh  modification  of  the 
slope  until  the  plateau  is  reached :  This  is  also,  in  abridg- 
ment, the  profile  of  every  hill,  its  characteristic  curve.  This 
is  the  law  which,  if  taken  as  a  guide  by  the  statistician  and, 
in  general,  by  the  sociologist,  would  save  them  from  many 
illusions.  They  would  no  longer  think,  for  example,  that  the 
populations  of  Russia,  Germany,  the  United  States,  Brazil, 
will  continue  to  grow  at  their  present  rates  of  increase.  They 
would  no  longer  fearfully  compute  the  hundreds  of  millions 
of  Russians  or  Germans  that  France  will  have  to  fight  one 
hundred  years  hence.  Nor,  would  they  continue  to  think 
that  the  need  of  railroad  travel,  of  letter-writing  and  tele- 
graphing, of  newspaper  reading,  and  of  political  activity, 
will  develop  in  France  in  the  future  as  rapidly  as  they  have 
done  in  the  past.  These  errors  may  be  costly. 

All  these  needs  will  cease,  just  as,  without  comparing 
them  in  any  other  way,  the  need  of  tattooing,  cannibalism, 
and  tent  life,  which  appear  in  remote  times  to  have  been 
very  quick-spreading  fashions,  came  to  an  end.  In  more 
recent  periods,  the  passion  for  ascetic  or  monastic  life  is 
an  example.  A  moment  arrives,  to  be  sure,  when  an  ac- 
quired desire  comes,  by  reason  of  its  growth,  to  vie  with 
even  innate  desires,  some  of  which  are  always  stronger  than 
it.  It  is  because  of  this  fact  that,  as  I  have  said  before, 
the  most  original  civilisations,  at  a  certain  point,  and  in 

judgment  passes  over  into  principle  or  dogma  or  almost  unconscious 
quasi-perception,  and  purpose,  into  pure  passion  or  desire.  Finally,  dog- 
matic quasi-perception,  finding  itself  more  and  more  jostled  by  the  direct 
perceptions  of  opposing  and  stronger  senses,  ceases  to  gain  in  strength, 
and  acquired  desire,  coming  into  greater  and  greater  opposition  with 
certain  innate  and  more  energetic  desires,  is  arrested,  in  its  turn,  in  its 
downward  movement  into  the  depths  of  the  heart. 


128  Laws  of  Imitation 

spite  of  their  free  development,  leave  off  accentuating  their 
differences.  It  might  almost  be  thought  that  they  subse- 
quently tended  to  narrow  them  down;  but  this  illusion  is 
easily  explained  by  their  frequent  intercourse  and  by  the 
preponderating  influence  of  one  civilisation  over  the  other. 
A  slow  and  inevitable  assimilation  through  imitation  and 
an  apparent  return  to  nature  results,  because  the  shock  of 
two  contending  civilisations  weakens  in  each  of  them  the 
factitious  needs  in  which  they  differ  and  conflict  and 
strengthens  the  primordial  needs  in  which  they  resemble 
each  other.  Does  it  follow  that,  in  the  last  analysis,  organic 
needs  ultimately  control  the  course  of  artistic  and  industrial 
progress  just  as  external  reality  ends  by  controlling  the 
course  of  thought?  It  does  not,  for  let  us  observe  that  no 
nation  has  ever  been  able  to  push  its  civilisation  far  ahead 
and  to  reach  its  limit  of  divergence  except  on  the  condi- 
tion of  being  eminently  conservative  and,  like  Egypt,  China, 
or  Greece,  attached  to  the  particular  traditions  in  which  the 
divergence  is  best  expressed.  But  let  us  close  this  paren- 
thesis. 

Now,  of  the  three  phases  of  development  which  I  have 
indicated,  it  is  the  second  that  is  of  the  greatest  theoretical 
importance;  it  is  not  the  final  static  condition  which  is 
merely  the  limit  of  the  third  and  to  which  statisticians  ap- 
pear to  attach  so  much  value.  Between  the  rounded  sum- 
mit of  a  mountain  and  the  gentle  slope  of  its  base  there  is  a 
certain  direction  which  marks  better  than  any  other  the 
exact  energy  of  the  forces  which  raised  it  up  before  the 
denudation  of  its  peak  or  the  heaping  up  of  its  base.  Thus 
the  intermediate  phase  in  question  is  the  one  best  fitted  to 
show  the  energy  of  the  upheaval  which  the  corresponding 
innovation  has  stamped  on  the  human  heart.  This  phase 
would  be  the  only  one,  it  would  absorb  the  other  two,  if 
rational  and  voluntary  imitation  could  be  substituted  in 
everything  and  everywhere  for  unreflecting  and  mechanical 
imitation.  It  is  evident,  moreover,  that  it  requires  less  time 
for  a  new  article  of  manufacture  to  find  a  market  and  that 
it  also  requires  less  time  for  its  circulation  to  be  cut  off, 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  129 

according  to  the  measure  in   which   this  substitution  is 
effected. 

It  remains  to  be  shown  how  through  the  application  of 
the  preceding  law  the  most  complex  and,  at  first  sight,  the 
most  puzzling  curves  can  be  readily  deciphered  and  inter- 
preted. There  are  few  curves,  to  be  sure,  which  plainly 
conform  to  the  ideal  type  which  I  have  outlined;  for  there 
are  few  inventions  which,  as  they  spread  and  encounter 
others,  do  not  bestow  upon  or  receive  from  one  of  the  lat- 
ter some  success-accelerating  improvement  or  which  are  not 
undermined  by  other  inventions  or  checked  by  some  physical 
or  physiological  accident  like  a  dearth  or  epidemic,  not  to 
speak  of  political  accidents.  But,  then,  if  our  norm  is  not 
seen  in  the  whole  it  is,  at  least,  in  the  details.  Let  us  ig- 
nore the  disturbing  influence  of  the  natural  accidents  of 
war  or  revolution.  Let  us  overlook  any  rise  in  the  curve 
of  thefts  that  may  be  due  to  the  high  price  of  wheat  or 
any  deflection  in  the  curve  of  drunkenness  that  may  be  due 
to  the  phylloxera.  After  we  have  easily  discounted  the 
part  played  by  these  extraneous  movements,  we  may  be 
sure,  upon  inspecting  a  given  curve,  particularly  if  it  has 
been  plotted  according  to  the  rules  that  were  given  some 
pages  back,  that  as  soon  as  the  first  obstacles  are  overcome 
and  it  has  assumed  a  well-marked  upward  movement  ac- 
cording to  a  definite  angle,  every  upward  deviation  will 
reveal  the  insertion  of  some  auxiliary  discovery  or  improve- 
ment at  the  corresponding  date,  and  every  drop  towards  the 
horizontal  will  reveal,  on  the  other  hand,  according  to  our 
foregoing  law,  the  shock  of  some  hostile  invention.1 

1  Or  else  the  drop  is  only  apparent.  Under  the  ancient  regime,  the 
consumption  of  tobacco  was  continually  increasing,  just  as  it  is  at 
present.  This  fact  was  proved  by  the  steady  increase  of  the  taxes  col- 
lected under  the  fermes  generates.  From  thirteen  millions  in  1730  there 
was  a  rise  to  twenty-six  millions  in  1758,  when  there  was  a  sudden 
drop  in  the  receipts.  It  seemed  at  first  to  point  to  a  restriction  of 
the  consumption,  but  it  was  then  shown  that  the  revenue  was  simply 
the  victim  of  a  fraud  that  had  been  organised  on  an  immense  scale. 
See  on  this  subject  M.  Dehhante's  book,  Une  famille  de  finance  au 
XVIIIe  fiecle,  II.  312.  and  the  following  To  return  to  the  advance  in 
the  consumption  of  tobacco,  it  increased  from  thirteen  millions  in  1730 


130  Laws  of  Imitation 

And  if  we  study  by  itself  the  effect  produced  by  each 
successive  improvement,  we  shall  see  that  it,  too,  has  taken, 
according  to  the  law  in  question,  a  certain  time  in  which  to 
make  itself  acceptable,  that  it  has  then  spread  very  quickly, 
then  less  quickly,  and  that  it  finally  has  ceased  to  spread  at 
all.  Is  it  necessary  to  recall  the  gradual  but  prodigious  ex- 
tension that  every  improvement  in  the  loom,  in  the  electric 
telegraph,  or  in  the  manufacture  of  steel  has  given,  after 
a  certain  period  of  probation,  to  textile  industries,  to 
telegraphic  activity,  to  the  production  of  steel  ?  And  is  not 
each  of  these  improvements  due  to  some  new  inventor  fol- 
lowing upon  the  steps  of  earlier  ones?  When  an  unex- 
pected outlet  has  been  opened  up  to  a  local  industry,  to  the 
iron  industry,  for  example,  through  the  suppression  of  in- 
ternal taxation  or  through  an  international  treaty  which  has 
doubled  or  tripled  the  sale  of  its  products,  again  what  do 
we  see  but  the  felicitous  intersection  of  two  great  currents  of 
imitation,  the  one  starting  from  Adam  Smith  and  the  other, 
according  to  mythology,  from  Tubal  Cain  or  from  him, 
whoever  he  may  have  been,  who  was  the  forerunner  of  our 
metallurgists?  If,  at  a  certain  date,  we  see  that  the 
curve  of  arson  or  of  judicial  separations  is  suddenly  rising, 
we  shall  find,  if  we  investigate,  that  the  rise  in  the  former 
is  explained  by  the  introduction,  at  the  corresponding  date, 
of  the  invention  of  insurance  companies,  and  that  the  rise 
in  the  latter  is  explained  by  some  immediately  preceding 
legislative  invention  which  permits  poor  people  to  litigate 
free  of  charge. 

When,  for  example,  an  irregular  statistical  curve  resists 
the  preceding  analysis  and  cannot  be  resolved  into  normal, 
or  into  segments  of  normal,  curves,  it  means  that  it  is  in 
itself  insignificant,  that  it  is  based  on  curious,  but  absolutely 
non-instructive,  enumerations  of  unlike  units  and  of  arbi- 
trary groups  of  certain  acts  or  objects  in  which,  however, 

to  seventy-four  millions  in  1835,  and  then  to  one  hundred  and  fifty-three 
millions  in  1855,  and  to  two-hundred  and  ninety  millions  in  1875.  And 
yet  this  rate  tends  to  slacken.  It  is  remarkable  that  the  American 
Indians,  who  taught  us  the  use  of  tobacco,  have  recently  altogether  lost 
the  habits  of  tobacco  and  snuff. 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  131 

order  would  suddenly  appear  if  the  presence  of  a  definite 
underlying  desire  or  belief  were  revealed.  Let  us  consider 
the  table  of  the  annual  expenditure  on  public  works  by  the 
French  government  from  1833  to  tne  present  time.  This 
series  of  figures  is  exceptionally  irregular,  although  if  it  be 
taken  as  a  whole  it  presents,  in  spite  of  its  discontinuity,  a 
remarkable  progression.  I  will  merely  draw  attention  to  the 
fact  that  in  1843  the  figures  took  a  sudden  rise  and  re- 
mained at  the  high  level  of  about  one  hundred  and  twenty 
millions  until  1849,  when  they  suddenly  fell  at  a  very  rapid 
rate.  This  sharp  rise  was  due,  as  we  know,  to  the  building 
of  railroads  at  this  period.  This  is  equivalent  to  saying  that 
at  this  time  the  imitative  spread  of  railroad  invention  in 
France  ran  counter  to  that  of  the  much  more  ancient  inven- 
tions which  make  up  the  sum  of  other  public  works,  such  as 
highroads,  bridges,  canals,  etc.  Unfortunately  for  the 
regularity  of  the  series,  the  state  intervened  and  monopo- 
lised this  new  kind  of  work  and  so  substituted  for  the  con- 
tinuous progression  which  unmolested  private  initiative 
could  not  have  failed  to  produce,  the  discontinuity  which 
characterises  those  intermittent  explosions  of  the  collective 
will  called  laws.  But,  after  all,  a  real  and  incontestable  reg- 
ularity does  exist,  although  hidden  below  these  numerical 
gyrations  which  state  intervention  creates  for  the  interpre- 
ter of  statistics.  How,  in  fact,  did  the  law  of  June  u,  1842, 
which  provided  for  the  establishment  of  our  first  great  net- 
work of  railroads,  come  to  be  passed,  unless  it  was  because 
of  the  fact  that  before  this  date  the  idea  of  railroads  had 
circulated  abroad  and  that  confidence,  which  was  at  first  so 
feeble  and  unsettled  in  the  utility  of  the  new  discovery,  and 
desire  for  its  realisation,  which  was  at  first  a  mere  matter 
of  curiosity,  had  been  silently  growing? 

Here  we  have  the  constant  and  regular  progression  which 
the  preceding  table  disguises,  but  by  which  it  can  alone  be 
explained.  For  is  it  not  because  of  the  uninterrupted 
course  of  this  twofold  advance  in  confidence  and  desire, 
following  its  normal  curve,  that  the  Chamber  has  adopted 
the  Freycinet  plan  in  recent  years,  and  that  expenditure  for 


132  Laws  of  Imitation 

public  works  has  again  risen  to  alarming  proportions? 
Now  is  it  not  evident  that  had  we  undertaken  to  make  an 
approximate  numerical  measurement  of  this  progress  of 
public  opinion  the  idea  of  the  above  table  would  undoubtedly 
have  been  the  most  inappropriate  of  means  for  this  end  ?  Of 
course  an  estimate  of  the  annual  increase  in  the  number  of 
voyages  and  voyagers  and  in  the  transportation  of  freight 
by  rail  would  be  more  valuable. 


VI 

Having  given  an  account  of  the  subject,  the  aim,  and 
the  resources  of  sociological  Statistics  as  an  applied  study  of 
the  laws  of  imitation,  I  have  now  to  discuss  its  probable 
future.  The  special  appetite  which  it  has  whetted  rather 
than  satisfied,  this  thirst  for  social  knowledge  of  mathemat- 
ical precision  and  impersonal  impartiality,  is  only  incipient; 
its  development  lies  in  the  future.  It  is  only  in  its  first  phase 
and  before  reaching  its  predestined  goal,  it  can,  like  every 
other  need,  look  forward  with  perfect  propriety  to  immense 
conquests. 

Let  us  take  any  graphical  curve,  that,  for  example,  of 
criminal  recidivists  for  the  last  fifty  years.  If  its  physiog- 
nomy is  unlike  that  of  the  human  face,  is  it  not,  at  least,  like 
the  silhouette  of  hills  and  vales,  or,  since  it  is  a  question  of 
movement, — for  in  statistics  we  speak  quite  properly  of  the 
movement  of  criminality,  of  birth  or  marriage  rates, — like 
the  sinuous  lines,  the  sharp  rises  and  sudden  falls,  in  the 
flight  of  a  swallow?  Let  me  stop  a  moment  at  this  com- 
parison and  consider  if  it  is  specious?  Why  should  the 
statistical  diagrams  that  are  gradually  traced  out  on  this 
paper  from  accumulations  of  successive  crimes  and 
misdemeanours — whose  records  are  transmitted  in  official 
reports  to  the  government,  from  the  government  in  an- 
nual returns  to  the  bureau  of  statistics  at  Paris  and 
from  this  bureau,  in  blue  books,  to  the  magistrates  of 
the  different  tribunals — why  should  these  silhouettes,  which 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  133 

likewise  give  visible  expression  to  masses  or  series  of  co- 
existent or  successive  facts,  be  the  only  ones  to  be  taken  as 
symbolical,  whereas  the  line  traced  on  my  retina  by  the  flight 
of  a  swallow  is  deemed  an  inherent  reality  in  the  being  which 
it  expresses  and  which  essentially  consists,  it  seems  to  me,  of 
moving  figures,  of  movements  in  an  imaginary  space? 
Is  there  really  less  symbolism  in  one  case  than  in 
the  other  ?  Is  not  my  retinal  image,  the  curve  traced  on  my 
retina  by  the  flight  of  this  swallow,  merely  the  expression 
of  a  mass  of  facts  (the  different  states  of  the  bird)  which 
we  have  not  the  slightest  reason  in  the  world  to  consider  as 
analogous  to  our  visual  impression? 

If  this  is  so,  and  philosophers  will  readily  grant  that  it 
is,  let  us  continue  our  discussion. 

The  most  appreciable  difference,  then,  between  statistical 
curves  and  visual  images  consists  in  the  fact  that  the  former 
are  laborious  to  trace  or  even  interpret,  whereas  the  latter 
record  themselves  on  our  retinae  without  any  effort  on  our 
part  and  lend  themselves  with  the  greatest  ease  to  our  in- 
terpretation. The  former,  moreover,  are  traced  long  after 
the  causation  and  appearance  of  the  changes  and  events 
which  they  represent,  and  represent,  too,  in  the  most  inter- 
mittent and  irregular  as  well  as  in  the  most  dilatory  fashion, 
whereas  the  latter  always  show  us  regularly  and  uninter- 
ruptedly what  has  just  occurred  or  what  is  actually  occurring. 
But  if  each  of  these  differences  is  taken  by  itself,  they  will 
all  be  seen  to  be  more  apparent  than  real  and  to  be  reducible 
to  differences  of  degree.  If  Statistics  continues  to  progress 
as  it  has  done  for  several  years,  if  the  information  which 
it  gives  us  continues  to  gain  in  accuracy,  in  despatch,  in  bulk, 
and  in  regularity,  a  time  may  come  when  upon  the  accom- 
plishment of  every  social  event  a  figure  will  at  once  issue 
forth  automatically,  so  to  speak,  to  take  its  place  on  the 
statistical  registers  that  will  be  continuously  communicated 
to  the  public  and  spread  abroad  pictorially  by  the  daily 
press.  Then,  at  every  step,  at  every  glance  cast  upon  poster 
or  newspaper,  we  shall  be  assailed,  as  it  were,  with  statis- 
tical facts,  with  precise  and  condensed  knowledge  of  all  the 


134  Laws  of  Imitation 

peculiarities  of  actual  social  conditions,  of  commercial  gains 
or  losses,  of  the  rise  or  falling  off  of  certain  political  parties, 
of  the  progress  or  decay  of  a  certain  doctrine,  etc.,  in 
exactly  the  same  way  as  we  are  assailed  when  we  open  our 
eyes  by  the  vibrations  of  the  ether  which  tell  us  of  the  ap- 
proach or  withdrawal  of  such  and  such  a  so-called  body  and 
of  many  other  things  of  a  similar  nature.  This  information 
is  interesting  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  conservation 
and  development  of  our  organs,  just  as  the  former  news  is 
interesting  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  conservation  and 
development  of  our  social  being,  of  our  reputation  and 
wealth,  of  our  power,  and  of  our  honour. 

Consequently,  granted  that  statistics  be  extended  and 
completed  to  this  extent,  a  statistical  bureau  might  be  com- 
pared to  an  eye  or  ear.  Like  the  eye  or  ear,  it  would  save 
us  trouble  by  synthesising  collections  of  scattered  homogene- 
ous units  for  us,  and  it  would  give  us  the  clear,  precise,  and 
smooth  result  of  this  elaboration.  And,  certainly,  under 
such  conditions,  it  would  be  no  more  difficult  for  an  edu- 
cated man  to  keep  informed  of  the  slightest  current  changes 
in  religious  or  political  opinion  than  for  a  man  whose  eye- 
sight was  impaired  by  age  to  recognise  a  friend  at  a  dis- 
tance, or  to  distinguish  the  approach  of  an  obstacle  in  time 
to  avoid  it.  Let  us  hope  that  the  day  will  come  when  the 
representative  or  legislator  who  is  called  upon  to  reform  the 
justiciary  or  the  penal  code  and  yet  who  is,  hypothetically, 
ignorant  of  juridical  statistics,  will  be  as  rare  and  inconceiv- 
able a  being  as  a  blind  omnibus  driver  or  a  deaf  orchestral 
leader  would  be  to-day.1 

I  might  freely  say,  then,  that  each  of  our  senses  gives  us, 

1  According  to  Burckhardt,  Florence  and  Venice  must  have  been  the 
cradle  of  statistics.  "  Fleets,  armies,  power  and  political  influence,  fall 
under  the  debit  and  credit  of  a  trader's  ledger"  [The  Civilization  of 
the  Period  of  the  Renaissance  in  Italy,  I,  97,  Jacob  Burckhardt.  English 
translation  by  S.  G.  C.  Middlemore,  London,  1878. — TV.].  We  find 
detailed  statistics  in  Milan  dating  from  1288.  In  reality,  embryonic 
statistics  must  have  always  existed  in  even  the  most  ignorant  and 
negligent  states,  just  as  there  are  rudimentary  senses  in  the  very  lowest 
animals. 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  135 

in  its  own  way  and  from  its  special  point  of  view,  the  statis- 
tics of  the  external  world.  Their  characteristic  sensations 
are  in  a  certain  way  their  special  graphical  tables.  Every 
sensation — colour,  sound,  taste,  etc., — is  only  a  number,  a 
collection  of  innumerable  like  units  of  vibrations  that  are 
represented  collectively  by  this  single  figure.  The  affective 
character  of  these  different  sensations  is  merely  their  dis- 
tinctive mark,  it  is  analogous  to  the  difference  which  char- 
acterises the  figures  of  our  system  of  notation.  How 
should  we  know  the  sounds  of  do,  of  re,  of  mi,  except  for 
the  fact  that  there  is  in  the  air  about  us,  during  a  certain 
consecutive  period  of  time,  a  certain  proportionate  number 
per  second  of  so-called  sonorous  vibrations?  What  does 
the  colour  red,  blue,  yellow,  or  green  mean  except  that  the 
ether  is  agitated,  during  a  certain  consecutive  period  of  time, 
by  a  certain  proportionate  number  of  so-called  luminous 
vibrations  ? 

Touch,  as  a  sense  of  temperature,  is  nothing  more  than 
the  statistics  of  the  heat  vibrations  of  the  ether;  as  a  sense 
of  resistance  and  weight,  it  is  merely  the  statistics  of  our 
muscular  contractions.  But  the  impressions  of  touch, 
unlike  those  of  sight  and  hearing,  follow  one  another 
without  definite  proportions;  there  is  no  tactile  gamut. 
Hence  the  inferiority  of  this  sense.  Statisticians  are 
lacking  in  the  same  way  when  they  fail  to  give 
us  the  relative  proportions  of  their  crudely  tabulated 
figures.  As  for  the  senses  of  smell  and  taste,  if 
they  are  justly  ranked  as  altogether  inferior  senses,  is 
it  not  because,  poor  statisticians  as  they  are,  they  do  not 
conform  to  our  elementary  rules,  but  are  satisfied  with  de- 
fective figures,  with  the  expressions  of  faulty  additions  in 
which  the  most  heterogeneous  units,  all  sorts  of  nervous 
vibrations  and  chemical  actions,  have  been  thrown  together 
in  the  same  kind  of  disorder  that  we  see  in  a  badly  made 
budget  ? 

The  reader  may  have  noticed  that  some  of  our  news- 
papers publish  from  day  to  day  graphical  curves,  showing 
the  fluctuations  of  the  different  securities  of  the  stock-ex- 


136  Laws  of  Imitation 

change,  as  well  as  other  changes  about  which  it  is  useful  to 
know.  These  curves  are  now  relegated  to  the  last  page, 
but  they  tend  to  encroach  upon  the  others,  and,  perhaps,  be- 
fore long,  at  any  rate,  at  some  time  in  the  future  when  peo- 
ple have  been  satiated  with  declamation  and  polemic,  just  as 
very  well  read  minds  begin  to  be  with  literature,  and  when 
they  will  read  the  papers  merely  for  their  multifarious  state- 
ments of  exact  and  ungarnished  fact,  they  will  usurp  the 
place  of  honour.  The  public  journals,  then,  will  become 
socially  what  our  sense  organs  are  vitally.  Every  printing 
office  will  become  a  mere  central  station  for  different  bu- 
reaus of  statistics  just  as  the  ear-drum  is  a  bundle  of  acous- 
tic nerves,  or  as  the  retina  is  a  bundle  of  special  nerves  each 
of  which  registers  its  characteristic  impression  on  the  brain. 
At  present  Statistics  is  a  kind  of  embryonic  eye,  like  that  of 
the  lower  animals  which  see  just  enough  to  recognise  the  ap- 
proach of  foe  or  prey.  But  this  already  is  a  great  benefit 
to  have  bestowed  upon  us,  and  through  it  we  may  be 
kept  from  running  serious  dangers. 

The  analogy  is  plain.  It  is  strengthened  by  a  compar- 
ison of  the  part  taken  by  the  senses  throughout  the  animal 
world,  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest  rung  of  the  mental 
ladder,  with  the  role  that  has  been  played  by  newspapers 
during  the  course  of  civilisation.  In  the  case  of  mollusk, 
insect,  and  even  of  quadruped,  the  senses  are  more  than  the 
mere  scouts  of  the  intelligence — the  more  imperfect  they 
are,  the  more  important  they  become.  But  their  functions 
diminish  as  they  become  localised,  and  the  nearer  the  ap- 
proach to  man,  the  more  subordinate  the  position  which 
they  hold.  Similarly,  in  growing  and  inferior  civilisations 
like  our  own  (for  our  descendants  will  look  down  upon  us 
just  as  we  do  upon  our  lower  brethren),  newspapers  do 
more  than  furnish  their  reader  with  thought-stimulating 
information;  they  think  and  decide  for  him  and  he  is  me- 
chanically moulded  and  guided  by  them.  A  sure  sign  of  ad- 
vance in  civilisation  upon  the  part  of  a  certain  class  of  read- 
ers, is  the  fact  that  the  newspaper  which  appeals  to  them 
devotes  a  smaller  portion  of  itself  to  phrases  and  a  larger 


Archasology  and  Statistics  137 

portion  to  facts  and  figures  and  to  brief  and  reliable  infor- 
mation. The  ideal  newspaper  of  this  kind  would  be  one 
without  political  articles  and  full  of  graphical  curves  and 
succinct  editorials. 

It  is  obvious  that  I  am  not  inclined  to  minimise  the  func- 
tion of  statistics.  And  yet,  although  I  realise  its  future  im- 
portance, I  must  point  out,  before  concluding,  a  certain  ex- 
aggerated expectation  which  is  sometimes  entertained  in 
relation  to  it.  When  we  see  that  these  numerical  results 
become  more  and  more  constant  and  regular  as  they  come  to 
refer  to  larger  and  larger  numbers,  we  are  at  times  inclined 
to  think  that  if  the  tide  of  population  continues  to  advance 
and  great  states  to  enlarge,  a  movement  will  come  when 
in  the  distant  future  all  social  phenomena  will  be  reducible 
to  mathematical  formulas.  Hence  the  mistaken  inference 
is  drawn  that  the  statistician  will  some  day  be  able  to  fore- 
tell future  social  conditions  with  as  much  certainty  as  the  as- 
tronomist  of  to-day  predicts  the  next  eclipse  of  Venus. 
In  this  event  Statistics  would  be  fated  to  plunge  further 
and  further  ahead  into  the  future  as  archaeology  has  gone 
back  into  the  past. 

But  from  all  that  which  has  gone  before  we  know  that 
Statistics  is  hemmed  within  the  field  of  imitation  and  that 
the  field  of  invention  is  forbidden  ground.  The  future  will 
be  made  by  as  yet  unknown  inventors  and  no  real  law  con- 
cerning their  successive  advents  can  be  formulated.  In  this 
respect,  the  future  is  like  the  past.  It  does  not  fall  to  the 
archaeologist  to  tell  precisely  what  processes  of  ancient  art 
or  industry  preceded  those  which  had  been  substituted  for 
them  in  the  use  of  a  given  people  at  a  certain  period  of  its 
history.  Why  should  the  statisician  be  more  fortunate  in 
the  opposite  direction  ?  The  empire  of  great  men,  the  even- 
tual disturbers  of  prognosticated  curves,  cannot  fail  to  in- 
crease, rather  than  diminish.  The  progress  of  population 
will  only  extend  their  imitative  following.  The  progress  of 
civilisation  will  but  hasten  and  facilitate  the  imitation  of 
their  examples,  while,  at  the  same  time,  it  will  multiply  for  a 
certain  period  the  number  of  inventive  geniuses.  It  seems 


138  Laws  of  Imitation 

as  if  the  further  we  progressed  the  more  all  kinds  of  new 
and  unforeseen  things  flowed  out  from  the  class  that  gov- 
erns, from  the  discoveries,  and  that  among  the  class  that  is 
governed,  the  copyists,  the  things  that  are  foreseen  (which 
start,  however,  from  the  unforeseen)  spread  themselves 
out  more  and  more  uniformly  and  monotonously. 

And  yet,  on  closer  view,  progress  would  seem  to  have 
spurred  on  the  ingenuity  of  invention-aping  imitation  rather 
than  to  have  fertilised  the  inventive  genius.  True  inven- 
tion, invention  which  is  worthy  of  the  name,  becomes  more 
difficult  day  by  day;  so  that,  some  time  in  the  near  future, 
it  cannot  fail  to  become  more  rare.  And,  finally,  it  must 
become  exhausted;  for  the  mind  of  any  given  race  is  not 
capable  of  indefinite  development.  It  follows  that,  sooner 
or  later,  every  civilisation,  Asiatic  or  European,  is  fated  to 
beat  itself  against  its  banks  and  begin  its  endless  cycle  over 
again.  Then  Statistics  will  undoubtedly  possess  the  prom- 
ised gift  of  prophecy.  But  this  goal  is  far  distant.  Mean- 
while, all  that  can  be  said  is  that  in  as  much  as  the  direction 
of  future  inventions  is  chiefly  determined  by  prior  inven- 
tions, and  in  as  much  as  the  latter  are  becoming  more  and 
more  preponderating  because  of  their  accumulation,  pre- 
dictions based  upon  statistics  may  one  day  be  hazarded  with 
a  certain  degree  of  probability,  just  as  it  is  also  quite  prob- 
able that  archaeology  may  come  to  throw  light  upon  the 
origins  of  history. 


VII 

It  is  not  superfluous  to  note,  in  conclusion,  that  as  the 
preceding  chapter  was  an  answer  to  the  difficult  question 
"What  is  Society?"  so  this  chapter  is  an  answer  to  the 
question  "  What  is  History  ?  "  We  have  searched  much  and 
in  vain  for  the  distinctive  marks  of  historic  facts,  for  the 
signs  by  which  we  should  recognise  the  natural  or  human 
events  that  were  worthy  the  notice  of  the  historian. 
According  to  the  learned,  history  is  a  collection  of 


Archaeology  and  Statistics  139 

those  things  that  have  had  the  greatest  celebrity.  I 
prefer  to  consider  it  a  collection  of  those  things  that 
have  been  the  most  successful,  that  is,  of  those  ini- 
tiatives that  have  been  the  most  imitated.  An  immensely 
successful  thing  may  have  had  no  celebrity  at  all  A 
new  word,  for  example,  may  slip  into  a  language  and 
become  entrenched  in  it  without  arousing  any  attention; 
a  new  idea  or  religious  rite  may  make  its  way,  obscure 
and  unnoticed,  into  a  community;  an  industrial  process  may 
spread  anonymously  throughout  the  world.  There  is  no 
truly  historic  fact  outside  of  those  that  can  be  classed  in 
one  of  the  three  following  categories :  ( i )  The  progress  or 
decay  of  some  kind  of  imitation.  (2)  The  appearance  of  one 
of  those  combinations  of  different  imitations  which  I  call 
inventions,  and  which  come  in  time  to  be  imitated.  (3) 
The  actions  either  of  human  beings,  or  of  animal,  vegetal, 
or  physical  forces,  which  result  in  the  imposition  of  new 
conditions  upon  the  spread  of  certain  imitations  whose  bear- 
ing and  direction  are  thereby  modified.  From  this  latter 
point  of  view,  a  volcanic  eruption,  the  submerging  of  an 
island  or  continent,  even  an  eclipse,  when  it  occasions  the 
defeat  of  a  superstitious  army,  and,  still  more,  the  acciden- 
tal illness  or  death  of  an  important  personage,  can  have  the  • 
same  kind  and  degree  of  historic  importance  as  a  battle  or 
a  treaty  of  peace  or  an  international  alliance.  The  issue  of 
a  war  in  which  the  fate  of  a  civilisation  was  at  stake,  has 
often  depended  upon  inclement  weather.  The  severe 
winter  of  1811  affected  the  destinies  of  France  and  Russia 
as  seriously  as  did  the  Napoleonic  plan  of  campaign.  From 
this  point  of  view  pragmatic  and  even  anecdotal  history 
regains  the  place  which  philosophers  have  so  often  refused 
to  grant  it.  Nevertheless,  the  career  of  imitations  is,  on 
the  whole,  the  only  thing  which  is  of  interest  to  history. 
Therein  lies  its  true  definition. 


CHAPTER  V.- 

THE     LOGICAL     LAWS     OF     IMITATION 

STATISTICS  gives  us  a  sort  of  empirical  law  or  graphical 
formula  for  the  very  complex  causes  of  the  particular  spread 
of  every  kind  of  imitation.  We  must  now  consider  those 
general  laws,  laws  which  are  really  worthy  the  name  of  sci- 
ence, which  govern  all  imitations,  and  to  this  end  we  must 
study,  one  by  one,  the  different  categories  of  causes  which 
we  have  heretofore  merged  together. 

Our  problem  is  to  learn  why,  given  one  hundred  differ- 
ent innovations  conceived  of  at  the  same  time — innova- 
tions in  the  forms  of  words,  in  mythological  ideas,  in  in- 
dustrial processes,  etc. — ten  will  spread  abroad,  while 
ninety  will  be  forgotten.  In  order  to  solve  this  question 
systematically  let  us  first  divide  those  influences  which 
have  favoured  or  hindered  the  diffusion  of  successful  or  non- 
successful  innovations  into  physical  and  social  causes.  But 
in  this  book  let  us  pass  over  the  first  order  of  causes,  those, 
for  example,  which  make  the  people  of  southern  coun- 
tries prefer  new  words  composed  of  voiced  to  those  com- 
posed of  whispered  vowels,  and  the  people  of  northern 
countries,  the  Opposite.  In  the  same  way  there  are  in  my- 
thology, in  artistic  or  industrial  technique,  or  in  govern- 
ment, many  peculiarities  which  result  from  a  racial  confor- 
mation of  ear  or  larynx,  from  cerebral  predispositions, 
from  meteoric  conditions  or  from  the  nature  of  fauna 
and  flora.  Let  us  put  all  this  to  one  side.  I  do  not 
mean  that  it  has  no  real  importance  in  sociology.  It  is 
of  interest,  for  example,  to  note  the  influence  which  may 
be  exerted  upon  the  entire  course  of  a  civilisation  by  the  na- 
ture of  a  new  and  spontaneous  production  of  its  soil.  Much 

140 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  141 

depends  upon  the  spot  in  which  it  springs;  the  conditions 
of  labour,  and,  consequently,  the  family  groups  and  political 
institutions  of  a  fertile  valley  are  different  from  those  of  a 
moor  more  or  less  rich  in  pasture-land.  We  must  thank 
those  scholars  who  devote  themselves  to  researches  of  this 
character,  researches  which  are  as  useful  in  sociology  as 
studies  upon  the  modification  of  species  by  the  action  of 
climate  or  general  environment  are  in  biology.  It  would 
be  erroneous  to  think,  however,  that  because  we  had 
shown  the  adaptation  of  living  or  social  types  to  external 
phenomena  we  had  thereby  explained  them.  The  expla- 
nation must  be  sought  for  in  the  laws  which  express  the 
internal  relations  of  cells  or  of  minds  in  association.  This 
is  the  reason  why,  in  this  discussion  of  pure  and  abstract, 
not  of  concrete  and  applied,  sociology,  I  must  set  aside  all 
considerations  of  the  above  nature. 

Now,  social  causes  are  of  two  kinds,  the  logical  and  the 
non-logical.  This  distinction  is  of  the  greatest  importance. 
Logical  causes  operate  whenever  an  individual  "prefers  a 
given  innovation  to  others  because  he  thirif$  .ft^is  more 
tiSeful  or  more  true  than  others,  that  is,  mdre  in  accord 
than  they  are  with  the  aims  or  principles  that  have  already 
found  a  place  in  his  mind  (through  imitation,  of  course). 
In  such  instances,  the  old  or  new  inventions  or  discoveries 
are  themselves  the  only  question;  they  are  isolated  from 
any  prestige  or  discredit  which  may  have  attached  to  those 
circulating  them  or  to  the  time  and  place  of  their  origin. 
But  logical  action  is  very  rarely  untrammelled  in  this  way. 
In  general,  the  extra-logical  influences  to  which  I  have 
referred  interfere  in  the  choice  of  the  examples  to  be  fol- 
lowed, and  often,  as  we  shall  see  further  on,  the  poorest 
innovations,  from  the  point  of  view  of  logic,  are  selected 
because  of  their  place,  or  even  date  or  birth. 

Unless  these  necessary  distinctions  are  constantly  borne 
in  mind,  it  is  impossible  to  understand  the  simplest  social 
facts.  Language  is  a  notable  example.  It  seems  to  me 
that  its  present  inextricable  skein  might  be  readily  un- 
ravelled by  applying  these  ideas  (if  any  professional  philolo- 


142  Laws  of  Imitation 

gist  would  pay  me  the  compliment  of  adopting  them). 
Philologists  seek  for  those  laws  which  should  govern  the  for- 
mation and  transformation  of  languages.  But,  hitherto, 
they  have  only  been  able  to  formulate  rules  which  are  sub- 
ject to  very  many  exceptions,  in  regard  to  both  changes 
in  sound  (phonetic  laws)  and  changes  in  meaning,  in  re- 
gard to  the  acquisition  of  new  words  through  the  combina- 
tion of  old  roots  or  of  new  grammatical  forms  through  the 
modification  of  old  forms,  etc.  Why  is  this?  Because  only 
imitation  and  not  invention  is  subject  to  law  in  the  true 
sense  of  the  word.  Now,  small,  successive  inventions  have 
always  had  to  accumulate  in  order  to  form  or  transform 
an  idiom.  Besides,  in  the  service  of  language  a  large  part 
must  be  conceded,  at  the  outset,  to  the  accidental  and 
arbitrary. 

It  is  because  of  these  individual  factors  that,  among 
other  peculiarities,  there  are  a  certain  number  of 
roots  in  a  language,  that  one  root  will  consist  of  three  con- 
sonants and  another  of  a  single  syllable,  or  that  one  termi- 
nation and  not  another  will  be  adopted  at  the  behest  of  a 
given  shade  of  thought.  After  this  concession  has  been 
made  to  invention  and  to  influences  of  a  climatic  or  phy- 
siological order,  a  great  field  is  still  open  to  the  laws  of 
language. 

There  is,  of  course,  apart  from  both  the  irrational 
and  important,  not  to  say  pregnant,  motives  of  which 
I  have  been  speaking,  a  host  of  minor  linguistic  inven- 
tions which  were  suggested  to  their  unknown  authors  by 
way  of  analogy,1  i.  c.,  through  imitation  of  self  or 
others;  and  it  is  in  this  direction  that  linguistic  inven- 
tions are  subject  to  law.  The  first  man  to  conceive 
the  idea  of  expressing  capacity  for  respect  by  adding 
the  suffix  bills,  which,  according  to  hypothesis,  was  al- 
ready used  in  the  compound  amabilis,  to  the  root  of 
veneratio,  or  of  creating  Germanicus  upon  the  model  of 
Italicus,  was  an  unconscious  inventor,  but,  to  put  it  briefly, 

1  Philologists  all  recognise  the  immense  role  played  by  analogy  in 
their  science.  See  Sayce  in  particular  on  this  point. 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  143 

he  imitated  at  the  same  time  that  he  invented.  Whenever 
terminations,  or,  similarly,  declensions  or  conjugations,  have 
been  broadened  and  generalised  in  this  way,  imitation  of 
self  and  of  others  has  taken  place,  and  precisely  to  this 
extent  is  the  formation  and  transformation  of  languages 
subject  to  formulation  into  rules.  But  these  rules,  which 
should  explain  to  us  why  one  among  many  almost  synono- 
mous  forms  of  speech  which  are  concurrently  at  the  service 
of  the  tribal,  or  civic,  or  national  mind  has  alone  fought 
its  way  into  general  usage,  fall  into  very  distinct 
groups. 

In  the  first  place,  we  see  that  the  incessant  struggle  be- 
tween minor  linguistic  inventions  which  always  ends  in  the 
imitation  of  one  of  them,  and  in  the  abortion  of  the  others, 
finally  comes  to  transform  a  language  in  such  a  way  as  to 
adapt  it,  more  or  less  rapidly  and  completely,  according 
to  the  spirit  of  the  community,  to  external  realities  and 
to  the  social  purposes  of  language.  Enlargements  of  vo- 
cabulary correspond  to  increases  in  the  number  of  human 
beings  and  of  their  modes  of  life.  Grammar,  by  means  of 
a  more  flexible  conjugation  of  verbs  or  a  clearer  or  more 
logical  arrangement  of  phrases,  lends  itself  to  the  expres- 
sion of  more  subtle  relations  in  time  and  space. 
The  softening  and  differentiation  of  vowels  (in  Sanskrit 
they  are  all  sharp  sounds  in  a  or  o;  in  Greek  and  Latin, 
e,  u,  ou,  and  i  have  been  added  to  the  vocal  key-board)  and 
the  contraction  and  abbreviation  of  words  render  a  lan- 
guage more  and  more  pliable  and  expressive,  and  dis- 
tinguished philologists  like  M.  Regnaud  1  have  raised  to  the 
dignity  of  a  law  the  vowel  softening  and  the  contraction  of 
words  of  the  Indo-European  family.  In  fact,  in  Zend, 
Greek,  Latin,  French,  English,  and  German,  the  e  appears 
"  in  an  infinite  number  of  cases  as  a  weakened  substitute 
for  a,"  whereas,  "  the  opposite  never,  or  hardly  ever,  takes 
place."  If,  by  the  way,  this  rule  could  be  accepted  un- 
reservedly, we  should  have  here  a  pretty  example  of  lin- 
guistic irreversibility. 

1  See  his  Essais  de  linguistique  evolutionniste,  previously  cited. 


144  Laws  of  Imitation 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  even  in  the  most  perfect  idioms, 
even  in  that  Greek  of  which  it  may  be  said  that  its  con- 
jugation is  a  "  system  of  applied  logic,"  *  we  see  that 
many  modifications  effected  in  the  course  of  time  are  far 
from  being  advances  in  utility  or  truth.  Is  the  loss  of  /  and 
v  (digamma)  or,  in  many  cases,  of  an  initial  sibilant  of 
any  advantage  to  Greek?  Is  it  not  rather  a  cause  of  de- 
terioration? In  France  have  not  certain  expanded  forms 
succeeded  contracted  ones  contrary  to  the  law  of  word  con- 
traction, as  portique  from  porche,  capital  from  cheptal,  etc.  ? 
In  such  cases  certain  influences,  in  regard  to  which  the 
need  of  logic  and  finality  had  no  part,  preponderated.  We 
know  that  in  the  case  of  the  last  example  certain  writers  of 
renown  manufactured  many  words  like  portique  and  capital 
in  servile  imitation  of  Latin,  and  that  they  succeeded  by 
means  of  their  own  prestige  in  putting  them  into  circula- 
tion.2 

But  I  do  not  wish  to  dwell  at  greater  length  upon  the 
science  of  language.  I  am  content  with  having  indicated 
in  these  few  observations  the  drift  of  the  laws  which  we 
have  still  to  formulate.  In  this  chapter,  the  logical  laws 
will  occupy  our  attention  exclusively. 


Invention  and  imitation  are,  as  we  know,  the  elementary 
social   acts.     But  what   is   the  social   substance   or   force 

1  Curtius,    the    historian,    has    borrowed    this    expression    from    his 
brother,  the  philologist.     See  his  History  of  Greece    [I,   24,   English 
translation  by  A.  W.  Ward,  M.  A.,  London,  1868.— TV.]. 

2  We  also  know  that  when  one  of  many  rival  dialects  like  those,  for 
example,  of  Greece  or  of  mediaeval  France,  succeeds  in  supplanting  its 
competitors  and  in  crushing  them  back  into  the  rank  of  patois,  this 
privilege  is  not  always   and  never  altogether  due  to  its  intrinsic  merits. 
It  owes  it  primarily  to  political  triumphs,  and  to  the  real  or  fancied 
superiority  of  the  province  in  which  it  was  first  spoken.    It  was  thanks 
to  the  prestige  of  Paris  that  the  speech  of  the  Isle  of  France  became 
the  French  language.    We  may  note,  in  passing,  that  the  laws  of  imita- 
tion serve  to  explain  both  the  inward  transformations  of  a  language 
and  its  outward  diffusion. 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  145 

through  which  this  act  is  accomplished  and  of  which  it  is 
merely  the  form?  In  other  words,  what  is  invented 
or  imitated?  The  thing  which  is  invented,  the  thing 
which  is  imitated,  is  always  an  idea  or  a  volition,  a  judg- 
ment or  a  purpose,  which  embodies  a  certain  amount  of 
belief  and  desire.  And  here  we  have,  in  fact,  the  very  soul 
of  words,  of  religious  prayers,  of  state  administration,  of 
the  articles  of  a  code,  of  moral  duties,  of  industrial  achieve- 
ments or  of  artistic  processes.  Desire  and  belief :  they  are 
the  substance  and  the  force,  they  are  the  two  psychological 
quantities1  which  are  found  at  the  bottom  of  all  the  sensa- 

1 1  take  the  liberty  of  referring  the  reader,  if  he  be  a  psychologist,  to  two 
articles  which  I  published  in  August  and  September,  1880,  in  the  Revue 
philosophique  upon  belief  and  desire  and  the  possibility  of  measuring  them. 
These  articles  were  republished  unrevised  in  my  Essais  et  melanges 
sociologiques.  Since  then  my  ideas  on  this  subject  have  been  somewhat 
modified.  But  let  me  state  in  what  respects.  At  present  I  realise  that 
I  may  have  somewhat  exaggerated  the  role  of  belief  and  desire  in 
individual  psychology,  and  I  no  longer  affirm  that  these  two  aspects 
of  the  ego  are  the  only  things  in  us  which  are  susceptible  of  addition 
and  diminution.  On  the  other  hand,  I  now  attribute  to  them  a  greater 
importance  in  social  psychology.  We  may  admit  that  there  are  other 
quantities  in  the  soul;  we  may  concede  to  the  psycho-physicists,  for 
example,  in  spite  of  M.  Bergson's  remarkable  study  on  the  Donnees 
immedlates  de  la  conscience — which  conforms  so  well  in  other  respects 
to  my  own  point  of  view  on  this  subject — that  the  intensity  of  sensa- 
tions, considered  apart  from  their  relation  to  reason,  and  apart  from  the 
amount  of  attention  which  is  bestowed  upon  them,  changes  in  degree 
without  changing  In  nature,  and  that  it  therefore  lends  itself  to  experi- 
mental measurement.  But  it  is  nevertheless  true  that,  from  the  social 
standpoint,  belief  and  desire  bear  a  unique  character  that  is  well  adapted 
to  distinguish  them  from  simple  sensation.  This  character  consists  in 
the  fact  that  the  contagion  of  mutual  example  re-enforces  beliefs  and 
desires  that  are  alike,  and  weakens  or  strengthens,  according  to  circum- 
stances, beliefs  and  desires  that  are  unlike,  among  all  those  individuals 
who  experience  them  at  the  same  time  and  who  are  conscious  of  so 
experiencing  them.  Whereas,  although  a  visual  or  auditory  sensation 
may  be  felt  in  a  theatre,  for  example,  in  the'  midst  of  a  crowd  attentive 
to  the  same  concert  or  spectacle,  it  is  in  no  way  modified  by  the  simul- 
taneity of  the  analogous  impressions'  experienced  by  the  surrounding 
public.  From  certain  astounding  historical  occurrences  we  may  infer 
how  intense  a  man's  belief  or  desire  may  become,  when  it  is  also  experi- 
enced by  everybody  else  around  him.  For  example,  even  in  the  depraved 
but  still  credulous  Italy  of  the  Renaissance,  epidemics  of  repentance 
burst  out  from  time  to  time,  which,  as  Burckhardt  says1,  touched  even 
the  most  hardened  consciences.  These  epidemics,  of  which  the  one  at 
Florence  of  1494-98,  under  Savonarola,  is  only  one  among  hundreds, — 


146  Laws  of  Imitation 

tional  qualities  with  which  they  combine;  and  when  inven- 
tion and  then  imitation  takes  possession  of  them  in  order  to 
organise  and  use  them,  they  also  are  the  real  social  quanti- 
ties. Societies  are  organised  according  to  the  agreement 
or  opposition  of  beliefs  which  reinforce  or  limit  one  an- 
other. Social  institutions  depend  entirely  upon  these  con- 
ditions. Societies  function  according  to  the  competition 
or  co-operation  of  their  desires  or  wants.  Beliefs,  princi- 
pally religious  and  moral  beliefs,  but  juristic  and  political 
beliefs  as  well,  and  even  linguistic  beliefs  (for  how  many 
acts  of  faith  are  implied  in  the  lightest  talk  and  what  an  ir- 
resistible although  unconscious  power  of  persuasion  our 
mother  tongue,  a  true  mother  indeed,  exerts  over  us),  are 
the  plastic  forces  of  societies.  Economic  or  aesthetic  wants 
are  their  functional  forces. 

These  beliefs  and  desires  which  invention  and  imitation 
make  specific  and  in  this  sense  create,  although  they  virtu- 
ally exist  prior  to  the  action  of  the  latter,  originate  far  be- 
low the  social  world  in  the  world  of  life.  In  like  way,  the 
plastic  and  functional  forces  of  life  that  are  made  specific 
and  turned  to  account  by  generation,  originate  beneath  the 
animate  in  the  physical  world.  In  like  way,  the  vibration- 
ruled  molecular  and  motor  forces  of  the  physical  world 
originate  in  turn  in  an  inscrutable  hypophysical  world  that 
some  of  our  physicists  call  the  world  of  noumena,  others, 
Energy,  and  yet  others,  the  Unknowable.  Energy  is  the 
most  widespread  name  for  this  mystery.  By  this  single 
term  a  reality  is  designated  which,  as  we  can  see,  is  always 
twofold  in  its  manifestations;  and  this  eternal  bifurcation, 
which  is  reproduced  under  astonishing  metamorphoses  in 
each  successive  stage  of  universal  life,  is  not  the  least  of  the 

for  one  occurred  after  every  plague  or  disaster, — revealed  the  deep  and 
steady  activity  of  the  Christian  faith.  Wherever  souls  are  possessed  of 
the  same  faith  or  ideal,  intermittent  outbursts  of  similar  contagions  are 
the  result.  We  ourselves  no  longer  have  epidemics  of  penitence,  unless 
they  are  in  the  form  of  contagious  pilgrimages — those  unique  manifesta- 
tions of  the  power  of  suggestion, — but  we  do  have  epidemics  of  luxury. 
of  gambling,  of  lotteries,  of  stock-sneculation,  of  gigantic  railroad 
undertakings,  as  well  as  epidemics  of  Hegelianism,  Darwinism,  etc. 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  147 

common  characteristics  to  be  noted  between  life's  stages. 
Under  the  different  terms  of  matter  and  motion,  of  organs 
and  functions,  of  institutions  and  progress,  this  great  dis- 
tinction between  the  static  and  the  dynamic,  in  which  is  also- 
included  that  between  Space  and  Time,  divides  the  whole 
universe  in  two. 

It  is  important  to  state  at  the  outset  and  firmly  establish 
the  relation  between  these  two  terms.  There  is  a  profound 
insight  underlying  the  Spencerian  formula  of  Evolution 
which  states  that  all  evolution  is  gain  in  matter  with  cor- 
responding loss  in  motion,  and  that  all  dissolution  is  the  in- 
verse. Translated  into  a  somewhat  modified  and  less  ma- 
terialistic phraseology  this  thought  means  that  every  de- 
velopment in  life  or  society  is  a  growth  in  organisation  off- 
set or,  rather,  secured  by  a  relative  diminution  in  function. 
As  an  organism  grows  in  weight  or  dimension,  as  it  unfolds 
and  differentiates  its  characteristic  forms,  it  loses  its  vital- 
ity,1 just  because  it  has  used  it  up  in  the  process,  a  fact  Mr. 
Spencer  fails  to  mention.  As  a  society  enlarges  and  ex- 
pands, as  it  perfects  and  differentiaties  its  institutions,  its 
language,  religion,  law,  government,  industry,  and  art,  it 
loses  its  civilising  and  propelling  vigour;  for  it  has  been 
using  it  up  in  its  course.  In  other  words,  if  it  is  true 
that  the  substance  of  social  institutions  consists  in  the  sum 
of  faith  and  confidence,  of  truth  and  security,  in  a  word, 
in  the  unanimous  beliefs  which  they  embody,  and  that  the 
motor  power  of  social  progress  consists  in  the  sum  of  the 
curiosities  and  ambitions  and  of  the  consistent  desires 
which  it  expresses,  if  all  this  is  so,  then  as  a  society  ad- 
vances it  becomes  richer  in  beliefs  than  in  desires.  The 
true  and  final  object  of  desire,  then,  is  belief.  The  only 
raiscm  d'etre  of  the  impulses  of  the  heart  is  the  formation  of 
high  degrees  of  mental  certitude  and  assurance,  and  the 
further  a  society  has  progressed  the  more  is  it  possessed, 
like  a  mature  mind,  of  stability  and  tranquillity,  of  strong 

1  The  body  of  a  child  contains  more  vital  activity,  in  proportion  to  its 
siee,  than  that  of  a  mature  man.  The  relative  vitality  of  the  adult  has 

diminished. 


148  Laws  of  Imitation 

convictions  and  dead  passions,  the  former  having-  been 
slowly  formed  and  crystallised  by  the  latter.1  Social 
peace,  a  unanimous  belief  in  the  same  ideal  or  in  the  same 
illusion,  a  unanimity  which  presupposes  a  continually 
widening  and  deepening  assimilation  of  humanity — this 
is  the  goal  for  which,  irrespective  of  our  wishes,  all  social 
revolutions  are  bound.  This  is  progress,  that  is  to  say, 
social  advancement  along  logical  lines. 

Now,  how  is  progress  effected?  When  an  individual 
reflects  upon  a  given  subject  first  one  idea  comes  to  him  and 
then  another  until  from  idea  to  idea,  from  elimination  to  eli- 
mination, he  finally  seizes  upon  the  guiding  thread  to  the 
solution  of  the  problem  and  then,  from  that  moment,  passes 
quickly  out  from  the  twilight  into  the  light.  Does  not  the 
same  thing  happen  in  history?  When  a  society  elaborates 
some  great  conception,  which  the  curious  public  pushes  for- 
ward before  science  can  correct  and  develop  it,  the  me- 
chanical explanation  of  the  world,  for  example,  or  when  it 
dreams  in  its  ambition  of  some  great  achievement  like  the 
use  of  steam  in  manufacture  or  locomotion  or  navigation  be- 
fore it  can  turn  its  activity  to  exploiting  it,  what  happens? 
The  problem  that  is  raised  in  this  way  at  once  prompts 
people  to  make  and  entertain  all  kinds  of  contradictory  in- 
ventions and  vagaries  which  appear  first  here  and  then 
there,  only  to  disappear,  until  the  advent  of  some  clear 
formula  or  some  suitable  mechanism  which  throws  all  the 
others  into  the  background  and  which  serves  thencefor- 
ward as  the  fixed  basis  for  future  improvements  and  de- 
velopments. Progress,  then,  is  a  kind  of  collective  think- 
ing, which  lacks  a  brain  of  its  own,  but  which  is  made 
possible,  thanks  to  imitation,  by  the  soliditary  of  the  brains 

1  Let  us  fully  understand  each  other  on  this  point  too.  In  the  course 
of  civilisation  desires  increase  in  number,  but  decrease  in  strength, 
whereas  truth  and  security  are  both  multiplied  and  strengthened  at  an 
even  more  rapid  rate.  The  contrast  is  a  more  striking  one,  if  the  condi- 
tion of  barbarity,  and  not  that  of  savagery,  be  taken  as  the  starting  point 
of  the  evolution  of  civilisation.  The  latter  state,  according  to  our 
present  means  of  observation,  is  the  final  term  of  a  social  evolution 
complete  in  itself,  not  the  first  term  of  a  higher  evolution. 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  149 

of  numerous  scholars  and  inventors  who  interchange  their 
successive  discoveries.  (The  fixation  of  discoveries 
through  writing,  which  makes  possible  their  transmission 
over  long  stretches  of  time  and  space,  is  equivalent  to  the 
fixation  of  images  which  takes  place  in  the  individual  brain 
and  which  constitutes  the  cellular  stereotype-plate  of 
memory. ) 

It  follows  that  social  like  individual  progress  is  effected 
in  two  ways,  through  substitution  and  through  accumula- 
tion. Certain  discoveries  and  inventions  can  only  be  used 
as  substitutes,  others  can  be  accumulated.  Hence  we  have 
logical  combats  and  logical  alliances.  This  is  the  general 
classification  which  we  will  adopt,  and  in  it  we  shall  have 
no  difficulty  in  placing  all  historical  events. 

Moreover,  in  different  societies  discord  between  fresh  de- 
sires and  old,  between  a  new  scientific  idea  and  existing 
religious  dogmas,  is  not  always  immediately  perceived  nor 
perceived  within  the  same  period  of  time.  Besides,  when  the 
discord  is  perceived,  the  desire  to  put  an  end  to  it  is  not  al- 
ways equally  strong.  The  nature  and  intensity  of  the  desire 
vary  with  time  and  place.  In  fact,  Reason  exists  in 
societies  as  well  as  in  individuals;  and  Reason  in  all  cases 
is  merely  a  desire  like  any  other,  a  specific  desire  which 
like  others  is  more  or  less  developed  by  its  own 
satisfactions  as  well  as  created  by  the  very  inventions 
or  discoveries  which  have  satisfied  it;  that  is  to  say 
that  systems,  programmes,  catechisms,  and  constitu- 
tions, in  undertaking  to  render  ideas  and  volitions  co- 
herent, create  and  stimulate  the  very  desire  for  their  co- 
herence. This  desire  is  a  real  force,  located  in  individual 
brains.  Its  rise  and  fall  and  its  direction  and  object  vary 
according  to  given  periods  and  countries.  At  times,  it  is 
a  passing  breeze;  at  times,  a  whirlwind.  To-day  it  at- 
tacks the  government  of  states;  yesterday  and  the  day  be- 
fore it  attacked  languages;  to-morrow  it  may  make  an 
attack  upon  our  industrial  organisations,  and  another 
time  upon  our  sciences;  but  it  never  pauses  in  its  incessant 
labour  of  regeneration  or  revolution. 


150  Laws  of  Imitation 

This  desire,  as  I  have  said,  has  been  aroused  and  re- 
cruited by  a  series  of  initiations  and  imitations.  But  this  is 
equivalent  to  saying  by  a  series  of  imitations,  for  an  inno- 
vation that  is  not  imitated  is  socially  non-existent.  Con- 
sequently all  those  streams  and  currents  of  belief  and  de- 
sire which  flow  side  by  side  or  contrary  to  one  another  in  so- 
ciety, quantities  whose  subtractions  and  additions  are  regu- 
lated by  social  logic,  a  kind  of  social  algebra, — all,  including 
the  very  desire  for  this  general  reckoning  and  the  belief  in  its 
possibility, — all  are  derived  from  imitation.  For  nothing  in 
history  is  self-creative;  not  even  its  own  ever-incomplete 
unity,  the  secular  fruit  of  constant  and  more  or  less  suc- 
cessful efforts.  A  drama,  to  be  sure,  a  stage  play,  a  frag- 
ment in  which  the  whole  of  history  is  mirrored,  is  a  logical 
and  gradual  and  intricate  harmony  which  seems  to  work  it- 
self out  independently  of  anybody's  design.  But  we  know 
that  this  appearance  is  misleading  and  that  the  harmony 
transpires  as  surely  and  rapidly  as  it  does  only  because  it  an- 
swers to  the  imperious  need  for  unity  that  is  felt  by  the 
dramatist  as  well  as  by  the  public  to  whom  he  has  sug- 
gested it. 

Everything,  even  the  desire  to  invent,  has  the  same 
origin.  In  fact,  this  desire  completes  and  is  part  of  the 
logical  need  for  unification,  if  it  is  true,  as  I  might  prove, 
that  logic  is  both  a  problem  of  a  maximum  and  a  problem 
of  equilibrium.  The  more  a  people  invent  and  discover,  the 
more  inventive  and  the  more  eager  for  new  discoveries  they 
grow.  It  is  also  through  imitation  that  this  noble  kind  of 
craving  takes  possession  of  those  minds  that  are  worthy  of 
it.  Now,  discoveries  are  gains  in  certitude,  inventions,  in 
confidence  and  security.  The  desire  to  discover  and  invent 
is,  consequently,  the  twofold  form  which  the  tendency  to- 
ward achieving  a  maximum  of  public  faith  takes  on.  This 
creative  tendency  which  is  peculiar  to  synthesising  and  as- 
similating minds  often  alternates,  is  sometimes  concomi- 
tant, but  in  all  cases  always  agrees  with  the  critical  tend- 
ency towards  an  equilibrium  of  beliefs  through  the  elimi- 
nation of  those  inventions  or  discoveries  which  are  contrary 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  151 

to  the  majority  of  their  number.  The  desire  for  unanim- 
ity of  faith  and  the  desire  for  purification  of  faith  is  each 
in  turn  more  fully  satisfied,  but  in  general  their  ebullitions 
either  coincide  with,  or  follow  closely  upon  each  other. 
For  just  because  imitation  is  their  common  source,  both  of 
them,  the  desire  for  stable  as  well  as  that  for  absolute 
faith,  have  a  degree  of  intensity  proportionate,  other  things 
being  equal,  to  the  degree  of  animation  in  the  social  life, 
that  is,  to  the  multiplicity  of  relations  between  individuals. 
Any  fine  combination  of  ideas  must  first  shine  out  in  the 
mind  of  the  individual  before  it  can  illumine  the  mind  of  a 
nation;  and  its  chance  of  being  produced  in  the  individual 
mind  depends  upon  the  frequency  of  the  intellectual  ex- 
changes between  minds.  A  contradiction  between  two  in- 
stitutions or  two  principles  will  not  harass  a  society  until 
it  has  been  noted  by  some  exceptionally  sagacious  person, 
some  systematic  thinker,  who,  having  been  checked  in  his 
conscious  efforts  to  unify  his  own  group  of  ideas,  points  out 
the  aforesaid  difficulty. — This  explains  the  social  impor- 
tance of  philosophers. — And  the  greater  the  amount  of 
mutual  intellectual  stimulation  and,  consequently,  the 
greater  the  circulation  of  ideas  within  a  nation,  the  more 
readily  will  such  a  difficulty  be  perceived. 

In  the  course  of  the  nineteenth  century,  for  example, 
the  relations  of  man  to  man  having  been  multiplied  beyond 
all  expectation  as  a  result  of  inventions  in  locomotion,  and 
the  action  of  imitation  having  become  very  powerful,  very 
rapid,  and  very  far-reaching,  we  should  not  be  surprised  to 
see  that  the  passion  for  social  reforms,  for  systematic  and 
rational  social  reorganisations  has  taken  on  its  present  pro- 
portions, just  as,  by  virtue  of  its  previous  conquests,  the 
passion  for  social,  especially  industrial,  conquests  over 
nature  has  known  no  bounds.  Therefore  it  is  safe 
to  predict  that  a  century  of  adjustment  will  follow  upon  the 
past  century  of  discovery.  (Does  not  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury deserve  this  name?)  Civilisation  requires  that  an 
afflux  of  discovery  and  an  effort  to  harmonise  discoveries 
shall  coincide  with  or  follow  one  another. 


1 52  Laws  of  Imitation 

On  the  other  hand,  when  societies  are  in  their  uninvent- 
ive  phases  they  are  also  uncritical,  and  vice  versa.  They 
embrace  the  most  contradictory  beliefs  of  surrounding  fash- 
ions or  inherited  traditions;  1  and  no  one  notes  the  contra- 
dictions. And  yet,  at  the  same  time,  they  carry  within 
themselves,  as  a  result  of  the  contributions  of  fashion  and 
tradition,  much  scattered  thought  and  knowledge  which 
would  reveal  from  a  certain  angle  a  fruitful  although  un- 
suspected self -consistency.  In  the  same  way  they  borrow 
out  of  curiosity  from  their  different  neighbours,  or  cherish 
out  of  piety  as  a  heritage  from  their  different  forefathers, 
the  most  dissimilar  arts  and  industries,  which  develop  in 
them  ill-assorted  needs  and  opposing  currents  of  activity. 
Nor  are  these  practical  antinomies,  any  more  than  the 
aforesaid  theoretical  contradictions,  felt  or  formulated  by 
anybody,  although  everybody  suffers  from  the  unrest  which 
they  provoke.  But  at  the  same  time  neither  do  such  primi- 
tive peoples  perceive  that  certain  of  their  artistic  processes 
and  mechanical  tools  are  fitted  to  be  of  the  greatest  mutual 
service  and  to  work  powerfully  together  for  the  same  end, 
the  one  serving  as  the  efficient  means  of  the  other,  just  as 
certain  perceptions  serve  as  intermediaries  in  explaining 
certain  hypotheses  which  they  confirm. 

The  grindstone  and  the  paddle-wheel  were  known  about 
for  a  long  time  without  the  idea  occurring  to  people  that  by 
means  of  a  certain  artifice,  that  is,  by  adding  a  third  inven- 
tion, a  mill,  to  the  other  two,  they  might  be  made  to  co- 


1  M.  Earth,  for  example,  says  that  "  Buddhism  carried  in  itself  the 
denial,  not  of  the  regime  of  castes  in  general,  but  of  the  caste  of  the 
Brahmans,  and  this  without  respect  to  any  doctrine  of  equality,  and 
without,  for  its  part,  having  any  thought  of  revolt.  Thus  it  is  quite 
possible  that  the  opposition  which  existed  remained  for  long  an  uncon- 
scious one  on  both  sides  "  [The  Religions  of  India,  pp.  125-26,  A.  Barth, 
English  translation  by  Rev  J.  Wood,  London,  1882. — TV.].  Finally,  it 
became  flagrant,  but,  for  all  that,  and  here  was  another  unconscious 
contradiction,  "  the  name  brahman  remained  a  title  of  honour  among 
the  Buddhists,  and  in  Ceylon  it  was  given  to  kings  "  [Ibid.,  p.  127. — 
TV.]  .  somewhat  as  the  titles  of  count  and  marauis  are  valued  in  our  own 
democratic  society,  in  spite  of  its  stand  against  the  principles  of 
feudalism. 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  153 

operate  to  an  extraordinary  degree.  Back  in  Babylon, 
bricks  were  marked  with  the  names  of  their  maker  by  means 
of  movable  characters  or  stamps,  and  books  were  com- 
posed; but  the  thought  of  combining  these  two  ideas,  of 
composing  books  with  movable  characters,  was  not  con- 
ceived of,  although  it  was  a  very  simple  matter  and  one 
that  would  have  precipitated  the  coming  of  printing  by 
some  thousands  of  years. 

The  cart  and  the  piston  likewise  coexisted  for  a  long 
time  without  giving  rise  to  the  idea  of  using  the  latter 
(through  other  inventions,  of  course)  as  a  means  of  pro- 
pelling the  former.  On  the  other  hand,  at  the  close  of  the 
decadent  Middle  Ages,  for  example,  how  many  pagan  and 
licentious  tastes  for  luxury,  importations  or  revivals  from 
Arabia  or  from  the  ancient  world,  crept  through  castle 
loopholes  and  monastery  windows  to  ingratiate  themselves 
within  and  to  form  bold  medleys,  not  at  all  disturbing, 
however,  to  the  men  of  those  times,  with  the  existing 
practices  of  Christian  piety  and  the  rude  customs  of  the 
feudal  system!  Even  in  our  own  days,  how  many  op- 
posite and  contradictory  objects  our  industrial  or  national 
activity  is  engaged  in  achieving !  And  yet,  as  the  exchange 
and  friction  of  ideas  and  the  communication  and  trans- 
fusion of  needs  becomes  more  rapid,  the  elimination  of 
the  weaker  by  the  stronger,  when  opposition  arises,  will  be 
more  quickly  accomplished  and,  at  the  same  time,  and  for 
the  same  reason,  mutually  helpful  and  confirmatory  aims 
and  ideas  will  be  more  prompt  to  encounter  each  other  in 
the  ingenious  mind.  In  these  two  ways,  social  life  must 
necessarily  reach  a  degree  of  logical  unity  and  power 
hitherto  unknown.1 

1  Now  we  can  see  why  the  process  of  unifying  the  national  faith  by 
the  expulsion  of  religious  or  political  heretics  (the  revocation  of  the 
Edict  of  Nantes,  every  kind  of  religious  persecution)  is  always  far 
from  accomplishing  its  object.  It  keeps  a  population,  to  be  sure,  igno- 
rant of  those  contradictions  which  might  undermine  their  beliefs,  but, 
although  it  may  maintain  the  latter,  it  also  precludes  additions  to  their 
number.  For  the  ignorance  of  contradictions  which  dulls  the  critical 
sense  also  sterilises  the  imagination  and  dims  the  consciousness  of  mu- 


1 54  Laws  of  Imitation 

I  have  now  pointed  out  how  the  social  need  for  logic, 
through  which  alone  a  social  logic  is  formed,  arises  and 
develops.  It  is  at  present  necessary  to  see  how  it  sets  about 
to  obtain  satisfaction.  We  already  know  that  its  two  tend- 
encies are  distinguishable,  the  one  creative,  the  other  criti- 
cal, the  one  abounding  in  combinations  of  old  accumulable 
inventions  and  discoveries,  the  other  in  struggles  between 
alternative  inventions  or  discoveries.  We  shall  study 
each  of  these  tendencies  separately,  beginning  with  the 
latter. 


II.  The  Logical1  Duel 

Suppose  that  a  discovery,  an  invention,  has  appeared. 
There  are  straightway  two  facts  for  us  to  note  about  it; 
its  gains  in  faith,  as  it  spreads  from  one  person  to  another, 
and  the  losses  in  faith  to  which  it  subjects  the  invention 
which  had  the  same  object  or  satisfied  the  same  desire  when 
it  intervened.  Such  an  encounter  gives  rise  to  a  logical 
duel.  For  example,  cuneiform  writing  spread  for  a  long 
time  undisturbed  throughout  Central  Asia,  while  Phoeni- 
cian writing  had  the  same  career  in  the  Mediterranean 
basin.  But  one  day  these  two  alphabets  came  into  conflict 
over  the  territory  of  the  former;  and  cuneiform  writing 
slowly  receded,  but  did  not  disappear  until  about  the  first 
century  of  our  era. 

Studied  in  detail,  then,  the  history  of  societies,  like 
psychologial  evolution,  is  a  series  or  a  simultaneous  occur- 
rence of  logical  duels  (when  it  is  not  one  of  logical  unions). 
What  happened  in  the  case  of  writing  had  already  happened 
in  that  of  language.  Linguistic  progress  is  effected  first 
by  imitation  and  then  by  rivalry  between  two  languages  or 

tual   confirmations.     Moreover,   a  time  comes   when,   as   Colins   says, 
enquiry  can  no  longer  be  repressed. 

1 1  might  just  as  well  have  said  Ideological  as  logical,  just  as,  later 
on,  the  term  logical  union  means  teleological  union  as  well.  But  it 
seemed  well  to  identify  the  two  points  of  view  in  this  chapter  at  least. 


The  Logical  Law  of  Imitation  155 

dialects  which  quarrel  over  the  same  country  and  one  of 
which  is  crowded  back  by  the  other,  or  between  two  terms  or 
idioms  which  correspond  to  the  same  idea.  This  struggle 
is  a  conflict  between  opposite  theses  implicit  in  every  word 
or  idiom  which  tends  to  substitute  itself  for  another  word 
or  grammatical  form.  If,  at  the  moment  I  think  of  a  horse, 
the  two  words  equus  and  caballus,  borrowed  from  two  dif- 
ferent Latin  dialects,  come  into  my  mind  at  the  same  time, 
it  is  as  if  the  judgment  "  equus  is  a  better  designation  than 
caballus  "  were  contradicted  in  my  thought  by  the  judg- 
ment "  caballus  is  better  than  equus."  If  I  have  to  choose 
between  i  and  .$•  to  express  plurality,  for  example,  this 
choice  is  also  conditioned  by  judgments  which  are  intrinsi- 
cally contradictory.  During  the  formation  of  the  Romance 
tongues  thousands  of  like  contradictions  came  into  the 
brains  of  the  Gallo-Romans,  Spaniards,  and  Italians;  and 
the  need  of  adjusting  them  gave  birth  to  the  modern  lan- 
guages. What  philologists  call  the  gradual  simplification 
of  grammars  is  only  the  result  of  the  work  of  elimination 
that  is  prompted  by  a  vague  feeling  of  these  implicit  con- 
tradictions. This  is  the  reason,  for  example,  that  Italian 
always  uses  i  and  Spanish,  s,  whereas  Latin  sometimes 
made  use  of  i  and  sometimes  of  s. 

I  have  compared  the  logical  struggle  to  a  duel.  In  fact, 
in  each  of  these  separate  combats,  in  each  of  the  elementary 
facts  of  social  life  that  pass  through  an  edition  of  number- 
less copies,  the  opposing  aims  or  judgments  are  always  two 
in  number.  Have  you  ever  seen  a  battle  take  place  in  an- 
cient or  mediaeval  or  modern  times  between  three  of  four 
parties?  Never.  There  may  be  seven  or  eight,  or  ten  or 
twelve,  armies  of  different  nationalities,  but  there  can  be 
only  two  hostile  camps,  just  as  in  the  counsel  of  war  prior 
to  a  battle  there  are  never  more  than  two  opinions  at  the 
same  time,  in  relation  to  any  plan  of  action,  the  one  for  it 
and  the  other  made  up  of  those  united  against  it.  And, 
obviously,  the  quarrel  to  be  fought  out  upon  the  battlefield 
may  always  be  summed  up  in  a  yes  opposed  to  a  no.  Every 
casus  belli  is  this,  at  bottom.  Of  course  the  adversary  who 


156  Laws  of  Imitation 

gainsays  the  other  (in  religious  wars  principally)  or  who 
thwarts  the  plan  of  the  other  (in  political  wars)  has  his 
own  particular  thesis  or  plan  as  well;  but  only  in  as  much  as 
his  thought  or  will  is  more  or  less  directly  or  indirectly,  im- 
plicitly or  explicitly,  negative  or  obstructive,  does  it  render 
the  conflict  inevitable.  Hence  whatever  political  parties  or 
fragments  of  parties  there  may  be  in  a  country,  for  example, 
there  are  never  more  than  two  sides  In  relation  to  any  ques- 
tion, the  government  and  the  opposition,  the  fusion  of 
heterogeneous  parties  united  on  their  negative  side. 

This  remark  applies  generally.  At  all  times  and 
places  the  apparent  continuity  of  history  may  be  decom- 
posed into  distinct  and  separable  events,  events  both  small 
and  great,  which  consist  of  questions  followed  by  solutions. 
Now,  a  question  for  societies,  as  for  individuals,  is  a  waver- 
ing between  a  given  affirmation  and  a  given  negation,  or 
between  a  given  goal  and  a  given  impediment;  and  a  solu- 
tion, as  we  shall  see  later  on,  is  only  the  suppression  of  one 
of  the  two  adversaries  or  of  their  inconsistency.  For  the 
moment  I  shall  speak  of  questions  only.  They  are  really 
logical  discourses;  one  says  yes,  the  other,  no.  One  desires 
a  yes,  the  other,  a  no.  It  makes  no  difference  whether  we 
are  dealing  with  language  or  religion,  with  jurisprudence 
or  government,  the  distinction  between  the  affirmative  and 
the  negative  side  is  easily  found. 

In  the  elementary  linguistic  duel  which  we  were  consider- 
ing above,  the  established  term  or  idiom  affirms  and  the 
new  term  or  idiom  denies.  In  the  religious  duel,  the  ortho- 
dox dogma  affirms,  the  heterodox  denies,  just  as,  later, 
when  science  tends  to  replace  religion,  the  accepted  theory 
is  the  affirmation  that  is  controverted  by  the  new  theory. 
Juridical  contests  are  of  two  kinds.  The  one  occurs  in  the 
bosom  of  a  parliament  or  cabinet  whenever  it  deliberates 
upon  a  law  or  decree,  the  other,  in  the  bosom  of  a  court 
whenever  a  case  is  tried  before  it.  Now,  the  legislator  must 
always  choose  between  the  adoption  or  the  rejection  of  the 
proposed  law,  I.  e.,  between  its  affirmation  or  its  negation. 
As  for  the  judge,  we  know  that  in  every  suit  that  is  brought 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  157 

before  him, — a  peculiarity  that  has  been  overlooked  in  spite 
of  its  significance, — there  is  always  a  plaintiff  who  affirms 
something  and  a  defendant  who  denies  it.  If  the  defendant 
puts  in  a  counter  claim,  this  means  that  a  second  suit  is 
added  to  the  first.  If  other  parties  intervene,  each  of  them 
takes  on  the  character  of  plaintiff  or  defendant  and  thus 
multiplies  the  number  of  the  separate  questions  between  the 
litigants  of  the  action.  In  political  contests  a  distinction 
should  be  made  between  foreign  and  intestine  wars.  The 
latter  are  called  civil  wars  when  they  reach  their  highest 
pitch  of  intensity  and  result  in  armed  violence.  In  ordinary 
times,  they  constitute  the  parliamentary  or  election  contests 
of  political  factions.  In  a  foreign  war  is  there  not  always 
an  offensive  and  defensive  army,  one  in  favour  of  a  fight 
and  the  other  against  it?  And,  above  all,  is  not  the  cause 
of  war  the  advance  of  some  claim,  or,  if  it  be  a  doctrinal 
war,  of  some  dogma  that  is  noised  about  and  pushed  for- 
ward by  one  of  the  belligerents  and  rejected  by  the  other? 
In  electoral  or  parliamentary  wars  there  are  as  many  sepa- 
rate combats  as  the  number  of  measures  or  principles  that  are 
proposed  or  proclaimed  on  the  one  hand  and  condemned  or 
contradicted  on  the  other.  This  process  between  an  official 
plaintiff  and  one  or  more  opposing  defendants  is  renewed 
under  countless  pretexts,  from  the  moment  that  a  ministry 
or  government  is  first  formed;  it  is  ended  by  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  opposition — as,  for  example,  in  1594,  by  the  de- 
feat of  the  Catholic  League — or  by  the  downfall  of  the  gov- 
ernment or  ministry.  As  for  industrial  rivalries,  to  conclude, 
they  consist,  if  we  consider  them  closely,  in  many  successive 
or  simultaneous  duels  between  inventions  that  have  spread 
and  been  established  for  a  shorter  or  longer  period  and  one 
or  more  new  inventions  that  are  trying  to  spread  by  satisfy- 
ing more  fully  the  same  need.  Thus  there  are  always  in  an  in- 
dustrially progressive  society  a  certain  number  of  old  prod- 
ucts which  defend  themselves  with  varying  fortune  against 
new  ones.  The  production  and  consumption  of  the  former 
embody  a  strong  affirmation  or  conviction, — in  the  case  of 
tallow  candles,  for  example,  we  have  the  affirmation  that 


158  Laws  of  Imitation 

this  means  of  lighting  is  the  best  and  most  economical, — 
that  is  impugned  by  the  production  and  consumption  of  the 
latter.  We  are  surprised  to  find  a  conflict  of  propositions 
underlying  the  quarrel  over  shop-counters.  The  quarrels 
that  are  to-day  past  history  between  cane  sugar  and  beet 
sugar,  between  the  stage-coach  and  the  locomotive,  between 
the  sailboat  and  the  steamboat,  etc.,  were  once  real  social 
discussions  or  even  argumentations.'  For  not  only  two 
propositions,  but  two  syllogisms,  were  here  face  to  face, 
according  to  a  general  condition  unheeded  by  logicians.  The 
one  said,  for  example,  "  The  horse  is  the  fastest  domestic  ani- 
mal. Now,  locomotion  is  possible  only  by  means  of  animals; 
consequently  the  stage-coach  is  the  best  means  of  locomo- 
tion." To  this,  the  other  answered :  "  The  horse  is,  to  be 
sure,  the  fastest  animal,  but  it  is  not  true  that  only  brute 
forces  can  be  utilised  in  the  transportation  of  men  and 
merchandise,  consequently,  your  conclusion  is  false."  This 
observation  should  be  generalised,  and  it  would  be  easy  for 
us  to  discover  many  syllogistic  rebuffs  of  a  similar  kind  in 
the  above  logical  duels. 

I  may  add  that,  in  the  case  of  industry,  the  contest  is  not 
merely  one  between  two  inventions  meeting  the  same  need  or 
between  the  manufacturers  or  corporations  or  classes  which 
have  monopolised  them  separately.  It  is  also  one  between 
two  different  needs.  The  one,  some  widespread  and  domi- 
nant desire  that  has  been  developed  by  a  number  of  antece- 
dent inventions,  like  the  love  of  country,  for  example,  among 
the  ancient  Romans,  is  supposed  to  be  of  superior  impor- 
tance; the  other,  aroused  by  some  recent  or  recently  im- 
ported inventions,  like  the  taste  for  objects  of  art  or  for 
Asiatic  effeminacy,  implicitly  impugns  the  superiority  of  the 
first,  against  which  it  contends.  This  kind  of  contest  seems, 
of  course,  to  be  more  closely  connected  with  morality  than 
with  industry;  but  in  a  certain  sense  morality  is  only  indus- 
try viewed  in  its  high  and  truly  political  aspect.  Govern- 
ment is  only  a  special  kind  of  industry  that  is  able  or  is  sup- 
posed to  be  able  to  satisfy  the  chief  need  and  aim  that  the 
nature  of  long-prevailing  systems  of  production  and  con- 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  159 

sumption  or  of  long-ruling  convictions  has  planted  without 
a  rival  in  the  heart  of  a  people  and  to  which  morality  insists 
that  all  others  be  subordinated.  One  country  clamours  for 
glory,  another  for  territory,  a  third  for  money;  it  all  depends 
whether  its  people  have  done  most  of  their  work  under  arms 
or  at  the  plough  or  in  the  factory.  As  nations  or  as  individ- 
uals, we  are  ever  unwittingly  under  the  control  of  some 
guiding  desire  or,  rather,  some  persistent  resolution  which, 
born  itself  of  some  past  victory,  has  always  fresh  combats 
to  wage.  We  are  also  under  the  control  of  some  fixed 
idea  or  opinion  which'  has  been  adopted  after  some  hesi- 
tation and  whose  citadel  is  continually  being  attacked. 
This  is.  called  a  state  of  mind  in  individuals,  and  a  state 
of  society  in  nations.  Every  mental  or  social  state  im- 
plies, then,  while  it  lasts,  an  ideal.  To  the  formation  of 
the  ideal  which  morality  defends  and  preserves,  all  the 
military  and  industrial  as  well  as  all  the  aesthetic  past  of 
a  society  has  contributed.  And  finally  art  itself  has  its 
own  peculiar  conflicts  of  theses  and  antitheses.  In  each  of 
its  domains  there  is  always  some  prevailing  school  that 
affirms  a  certain  type  of  beauty  which  is  denied  by  some 
other  school. 

But  here  I  should  linger  for  a  moment  to  emphasise  the 
preceding  points.  We  are  considering  social  facts  mainly 
from  the  logical  point  of  view,  that  is,  from  the  point  of 
view  of  the  corroborative  or  contradictory  beliefs  which  they 
imply,  rather  than  from  that  of  the  auxiliary  or  contrary 
desires  which  they  likewise  imply.  It  is  difficult  to  under- 
stand how  inventions  and  their  aggregates,  institutions,  ca-n 
either  endorse  or  disavow  one  another,  and  this  point  I 
must  make  clear  once  for  all.  Invention  only  satisfies  or 
provokes  desire;  desire  expresses  itself  as  purpose;  and 
purpose,  besides  being  a  pseud o- judgment  in  its  affirmative 
or  negative  form  (I  desire,  I  do  not  desire),  includes  some 
hope  or  fear,  generally  hope,  that  is,  it  always  includes  a  true 
judgment.  Hope  or  fear  means  affirmation  or  negation 
accompanied  by  a  greater  or  less  degree  of  belief  that  the 
thing  desired  will  come  to  pass.  Suppose  that  I  wish  to  be 


160  Laws  of  Imitation 

a  Deputy, — a  desire  which  has  been  developed  in  me 
through  the  invention  of  universal  suffrage  and  representa- 
tion,— it  means  that  I  hope  to  become  a  Deputy  by  means  of 
certain  well-known  methods.  And  if  my  opponents  hinder 
me  (because  they  believe  that  another  will  aid  them  more  in 
obtaining  the  places  which  they  desire,  a  desire  which  has 
been  provoked  in  them  by  the  old  or  new  invention  of  the 
functions  in  question),  it  is  because  they  have  some 
quite  contradictory  hopes.  I  affirm  that  thanks  to  my 
good  management  I  shall  probably  be  elected;  they  deny  it. 
If  they  should  absolutely  cease  denying  and  lose  all  hope, 
they  would  no  longer  oppose  me,  and  the  teleological  duel 
would  end,  as  it  always  does  end,  in  the  logical  duel — a 
proof  of  the  capital  importance  of  the  latter. 

What  is  social  life  but  a  continual  turmoil  of  vague  hopes 
and  fears  intermittently  excited  by  fresh  ideas  which  stir 
up  fresh  desires?  When  we  dwell  upon  the  conflict  or 
competition  of  desires  we  get  a  social  teleology,  when  upon 
that  of  hopes,  a  social  logic.  When  two  inventions  satisfy 
the  same  desire,  they  clash  together,  as  I  have  shown,  be- 
cause each  implies  on  the  part  of  its  respective  producer  or 
consumer  the  hope  or  conviction  that  it  is  the  better  adapted 
to  the  end  in  view,  and,  consequently,  that  the  other  is  the 
inferior  of  the  two.  But,  even  when  two  inventions  satisfy 
two  different  desires,  they  may  contradict  each  other,  either 
because  the  desires  are  dissimilar  expressions  of  a  higher 
desire  which  each  thinks  itself  the  fitter  to  express,  or  be- 
cause the  satisfaction  of  either  requires  that  the  other  shall 
remain  unsatisfied  and  because  each  hopes  that  this  will  be 
the  outcome. 

We  have  an  example  of  the  first  case  in  the  invention  of 
oil  painting  in  the  fifteenth  century.  This  invention  gain- 
said the  ancient  invention  of  painting  on  wax  in  the  sense 
that  the  growing  passion  for  the  former  contested  with  the 
existing  taste  for  the  latter  the  right  of  considering  itself 
the  best  form  of  the  love  of  pictures.  As  an  example  of 
the  second  case  we  have  the  invention  of  gunpowder  in  the 
fourteenth  century.  In  developing  among  sovereigns  an  ever- 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  161 

growing  craving  for  conquest  and  centralisation,  a  craving 
which  required  the  subjection  of  the  feudal  lords  for  its 
satisfaction,  it  found  itself  in  opposition  with  the  inventions 
of  fortified  castles  and  elaborate  armour,  inventions  which 
had  developed  the  need  for  feudal  independence  among  the 
nobility;  and  if  the  latter  persisted  in  their  resistance  to 
their  king,  it  was  because  they  continued  to  have  as  much 
confidence  in  their  castles  and  cuirasses  as  the  king  in  his 
cannon. 

But  in  history  the  chief  contradiction  between  two  inven- 
tions arises  from  their  satisfying  the  same  desire.  The 
Christian  invention  of  the  diaconate  and  the  episcopacy  cer- 
tainly contradicted  the  pagan  invention  of  the  praetorship 
and  consulship  and  patriciate,  for  both  Christian  and  pagan 
thought  that  their  desire  for  grandeur  was  satisfied  by  their 
respective  dignities  and  denied  that  it  could  be  satisfied  by 
the  dignities  of  the  other.  Consequently  a  social  state 
which  tolerated  all  of  these  opposite  institutions  at  the  same 
time  contained  a  hidden  evil;  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  many 
contradictions  of  this  kind  contributed,  after  the  advent  of 
Christianity,  to  the  break-up  of  the  Roman  Empire  and  to 
that  absorption  of  Roman  civilisation  which  at  the  Renas- 
cence forced  the  civilisation  of  Christendom  to  give  way  in 
its  turn.  In  a  way,  too,  the  invention  of  the  monastic  rule 
of  the  first  religious  orders  also  gainsaid  the  ancient  inven- 
tion of  the  Roman  phalanx,  since  each  of  these  inventions, 
in  the  eyes  of  those  who  made  use  of  it,  satisfied,  to  the 
exclusion  of  the  other,  the  desire  for  true  security. 

In  like  manner  the  Doric  and  Corinthian  orders  were 
gainsaid  by  the  pointed  style,  and  the  hexameter  and  pen- 
tameter by  the  rhymed  verse  of  ten  syllables.  The  hexame- 
ter and  the  Corinthian  order  satisfied  the  Roman's  desire 
for  literary  and  architectural  beauty;  they  failed  to  do  this 
for  the  twelfth-century  Frenchman,  whom  the  ten-syllabled 
verse,  dear  to  the  trouveres,  and  the  style  of  Notre  Dame  de 
Paris  alone  satisfied.  The  irreconciliable  elements  in  such 
conceptions,  then,  are  the  judgments  which  accompany  them. 
This  is  so  true  that  when  in  modern  times  a  more  liberal 


1 62  Laws  of  Imitation 

taste  attributes  grandeur  to  both  the  patriciate  and  the 
episcopacy  and  beauty  to  both  the  hexameter  and  the  heroic 
measure,  formerly  antagonistic  elements  are  reconciled, 
just  as  long  before  this  monasticism  and  militarism  came 
into  perfect  harmony  when  it  was  seen  that  in  the  one  lay 
security  for  the  life  to  come  and  in  the  other,  for  life  from 
day  to  day. 

It  is  quite  certain,  therefore,  that  all  social  advances  by 
means  of  elimination  consist,  at  first,  of  duels  between  an- 
tagonistic affirmatives  and  negatives.  But  it  is  well  to  note 
that  the  negative  is  not  entirely  self-sustaining,  that  it 
must  depend  upon  some  new  thesis  which  is  itself  gain- 
said by  the  thesis  of  the  affirmative.  In  times  of  progress, 
then,  the  elimination  must  always  be  a  substitution;  and 
I  have  merged  these  two  ideas  into  the  latter  one.  This 
necessity  explains  the  weakness  of  certain  political  opposi- 
tions which  have  no  programmes  of  their  own,  and  whose 
impotent  criticism  controverts  everything  and  affirms  noth- 
ing. For  the  same  reason  no  great  religious  heretic  or  re- 
former ever  confined  himself  wholly  to  the  negative  side  in 
any  effective  opposition  to  dogma.  The  cutting  dialectic  of  a 
Lucian  did  less  to  shatter  the  statue  of  Jupiter  than  the  lisp- 
ing by  slaves  of  the  least  of  the  Christian  dogmas.  It  has 
been  justly  observed,  too,  that  an  established  system  of 
philosophy  resists  all  attack  until  the  day  when  its  enemies 
have  become  its  rivals  in  the  establishment  of  another 
original  philosophic  system. 

However  ridiculous  a  school  of  art  may  be,  it  continues 
vigorous  until  replaced.  It  took  the  pointed  style  to  kill 
the  Roman  style  of  architecture,  and  the  art  of  the  Re- 
nascence to  kill  the  Gothic.  Classic  tragedy  would 
have  survived  its  critics  but  for  the  appearance  of  the 
romantic  drama,  hybrid  though  it  was.  A  commercial 
article  disappears  from  consumption  only  because  another 
article  satisfying  the  same  want  takes  its  place,  or^because 
the  want  that  it  satisfies  has  been  suppressed  by  a  change  of 
fashion  or  custom,  and  this  change  can  be  accounted  for 
not  alone  by  the  spread  of  some  new  distaste  or  objection, 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  163 

but  by  that  of  some  new  taste  or  principle  as  well.1  In  the 
same  way  a  new  legal  principle  or  procedure  must  be 
formulated  or  adopted  before  inconvenient  or  antiquated 
principles  or  procedures  can  disappear.  In  Rome  archaic 
civil  processes  would  have  persisted  indefinitely  but  for 
the  ingenious  invention  of  the  Formulary  system. 
Quiritian  law  gave  way  only  to  the  happy  fictions  and 
liberal  inspirations  of  Praetorian  law.  In  our  own  days 
the  French  penal  code,  as  well  as  many  other  foreign  crim- 
inal codes,  is  clearly  old-fashioned  and  contrary  to  public 
opinion,  but  it  will  be  maintained  until  criminologists  agree 
upon  some  new  theory  of  penal  responsibility  that  will  be 
generally  adopted. 

Finally,  if  a  people  retain  the  same  number  of  ideas  to 
be  verbally  expressed  (if  it  loses  some  of  its  ideas  without 
acquiring  at  least  an  equal  number,  its  civilisation  is  de- 
clining instead  of  progressing),  the  words  and  gram- 
matical forms  of  its  language  can  be  eliminated  only  through 
the  spread  of  equivalent  terms  or  idioms.  When  one  word 
dies  another  is  born,  and,  consequently,  or  analogously,  when 
one  language  perishes,  it  means  that  another  has  been  born 
within  it  or  outside  of  it.  Latin  would  still  be  spoken,  in 
spite  of  the  barbarian  invasions/providing  certain  important 
linguistic  inventions,  the  derivation  of  articles  from  pro- 
nouns, for  example,  or  the  characterisation  of  the  future 
tense  by  the  infinitive  followed  by  the  verb  to  have  (avoir) 
(aimer-ai),  had  not  come  to  group  themselves  together 
somewhere  or  other  to  form  a  rallying  point  for  the  Romance 
languages.  Here  were  new  theses  without  which  the 
antithesis,  which  consisted  in  opposition  to  the  cases  and 
tenses  of  the  Latin  declensions  and  conjugations,  would 
never  have  succeeded. 

Thus  every  logical  duel  is  in  reality  twofold,  consisting 
of  two  sets  of  diametrically  opposite  affirmations  and  nega- 

1  Under  the  inroads,  however,  of  poverty,  disease,  or  general  misfor- 
tune a  want  may  disappear  without  being  replaced  at  all ;  or  it  may  be 
replaced  only  by  increased  intensity  on  the  part  of  lower  wants  which 
have  become  excessive  and  exclusive  of  all  others.  Then  a  decline 
or  set-back  instead  of  an  advance  in  civilisation  takes  place. 


164  Laws  of  Imitation 

tions.  Still,  although,  at  every  moment  of  social  life,  one 
of  the  two  hostile  theses  gainsays  the  other,  yet  it  presents 
itself  as  pre-eminently  self -affirmative;  whereas  the  second 
thesis,  although  it  likewise  affirms  itself,  owes  its  promi- 
nence only  to  its  contradiction  of  the  first.  It  is  essential 
both  for  the  politician  and  the  historian  to  distinguish  in 
every  case  whether  the  affirmative  or  the  negative  side 
preponderates  and  to  note  the  moment  when  the  roles  are 
reversed.  This  moment  almost  always  arrives.  There 
is  a  certain  time  when  a  growing  philosophy  or  religious 
or  political  sect  owes  all  its  popularity  to  the  support  which 
it  lends  to  the  controvertists  of  the  accepted  thesis  or 
dogma  or  to  the  detractors  of  government;  later,  when 
this  philosophy  or  sect  has  enlarged,  we  see  that  all  the 
forces  of  the  still  resistant  national  church  or  orthodox  phi- 
losophy or  established  government  are  called  upon  to  serve 
as  a  protection  against  the  objections,  the  doubts,  and  the 
alarms  that  have  been  aroused  by  the  ideas  and  preten- 
sions of  the  innovators,  ideas  and  pretensions  that  have  by 
this  time  become  attractive  in  themselves.  In  the  case  of 
industry  and  fine  arts,  it  is  for  the  pleasure  of  change,  of 
not  doing  the  usual  thing,  that  that  part  of  the  public 
which  is  influenced  by  fashion  adopts  a  new  product  to  the 
neglect  of  some  old  one;  then  when  the  novelty  has  be- 
come acclimated  and  appreciated  for  its  own  sake  the  older 
product  seeks  a  refuge  in  the  cherished  habits  of  the  other 
part  of  the  public  which  is  partial  to  custom  and  which 
wishes  to  show  in  that  way  that  it  also  does  not  do  the 
same  thing  as  the  rest  of  the  world.  In  the  struggle  of  a 
new  form  of  speech  with  some  old  expression,  the  new  form 
at  first  relies  upon  its  chiefly  negative  charm  for  neologists- 
who  wish  to  talk  out  of  the  ordinary;  and  when  the  new 
form  in  turn  becomes  time-worn,  the  older  expression  finds 
support  in  its  turn,  but  upon  its  negative  side  merely, 
among  the  lovers  of  archaisms  who  do  not  wish  to  talk 
like  all  the  rest  of  the  world.  The  same  somersaults  are 
turned  in  a  duel  between  a  new  principle  of  justice  and  a 
traditional  one. 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation          165 

It  is  now  essential  to  distinguish  between  the  cases  in 
which  the  logical  duel  of  theses  and  antitheses  is  individual 
and  those  in  which  it  is  social.  The  distinction  could  not 
be  more  clear-cut.  The  social  duel  commences  only  after 
the  individual  one  has  ceased.  Every  act  of  imitation  is 
preceded  by  hesitation  on  the  part  of  the  individual,  for 
every  discovery  or  invention  that  seeks  to  spread  abroad 
always  finds  some  obstacle  to  overcome  in  some  of  the 
ideas  or  practices  that  have  already  been  adopted  by  every 
member  of  the  public.  And  then  in  the  heart  or  mind  of 
every  such  person  some  kind  of  a  conflict  sets  in.  It  may 
be  between  two  candidates,  that  is,  between  two  policies 
which  solicit  his  vote,  or,  if  he  be  a  statesman,  between  two 
perplexing  lines  of  action.  It  may  be  between  two  theories 
which  sway  his  scientific  belief;  or  between  religion  and  irre- 
ligion,  or  between  two  sects  which  contend  for  his  religious 
adherence.  It  may  be  between  two  objects  of  art  or  com- 
merce which  hold  his  taste  and  his  purchase  price  in  sus- 
pense. If  he  be  a  legislator,  it  may  be  between  two  con- 
trary bills1  or  principles  that  seem  equally  important;  or, 
if  he  be  a  lawyer,  between  two  solutions  of  a  legal  ques- 
tion over  which  he  is  reflecting,  or  between  two  expres- 
sions which  suggest  themselves  at  the  same  time  to  his 
hesitating  tongue.  Now,  as  long  as  a  man  hesitates  in  this 
way,  he  refrains  from  imitation,  whereas  it  is  only  as  an 
imitator  that  he  is  a  part  of  society.  When  he  finally  imi- 
tates, it  means  that  he  has  come  to  a  decision. 

Let  us  suppose,  although  it  is  an  hypothesis  that  could 
never  be  realised,  that  all  the  members  of  a  nation  were 
simultaneously  and  indefinitely  in  a  state  of  indecision  like 
that  which  I  have  described.  Then  war  would  be  at  an 
end,  for  an  ultimatum  or  a  declaration  of  war  presup- 
poses the  making  of  individual  decisions  by  cabinet  of- 
ficers. For  war  to  exist,  the  clearest  type  of  the  logical 
duel  in  society,  peace  must  first  have  been  established  in  the 

1  A  greater  number  of  bills  may  be  up  for  consideration,  but  there- 
are  never  more  than  two  in  conflict  at  the  same  time  in  the  hesitating 
mind  of  the  law-maker. 


1 66  Laws  of  Imitation 

minds  of  the  ministers  or  rulers  who  before  that  hesitated 
to  formulate  the  thesis  and  antithesis  embodied  in  the  two 
opposing  armies.  For  the  same  reason  there  would  be  no 
more  election  contests.  There  would  be  an  end  to  re- 
ligious quarrels  and  to  scientific  schisms  and  disputes,  be- 
cause this  division  of  society  into  separate  churches  or 
theories  presupposes  that  some  single  doctrine  has  finally 
prevailed  in  the  previously  divided  thought  or  conscience  of 
each  of  their  respective  followers.  Parliamentary  discus- 
sions would  cease.  There  would  be  an  end  to  litigation.  A 
lawsuit,  the  presentation  of  a  social  difficulty  for  settlement, 
shows  that  each  party  has  already  settled  in  his  own  mind 
the  mental  difficulty  that  was  presented  to  him.  Industrial 
competition  between  rival  establishments  would  cease  be- 
cause their  rivalry  depended  upon  each  having  its  separate 
group  of  patrons,  and  now  their  products  would  no  longer 
vie  against  one  another  in  their  patrons'  hearts.  There 
would  be  an  end  to  the  struggles  and  encroachments  of  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  law,  such  as  those  between  the  Custom  and 
the  Roman  law  of  mediaeval  France,  for  such  national  per- 
plexity means  that  individuals  have  chosen  one  or  the  other 
of  the  two  bodies  of  law.  There  would  be  an  end  to  con- 
tests for  pre-eminence  between  distinct  dialects,  between  the 
Langue  d'Oc  and  the  Langue  d'O'il,  for  example,  for  a  lin- 
guistic hesitation  of  this  kind  in  a  nation  is  due  to  the 
linguistic  steadfastness  of  the  individuals  who  compose  it. 
In  brief,  to  reiterate,  social  irresolution  begins  when  in- 
dividual irresolution  ends.  Nowhere  else  can  be  seen  to 
greater  advantage  the  striking  similarity  and  dissimilar- 
ity of  the  logic  and  psychology  of  society  to  the  logic  and 
psychology  of  the  individual.  I  hasten  to  add  that  al- 
though the  hesitation  which  precedes  an  act  of  imitation  is 
merely  an  individual  fact,  yet  it  is  caused  by  social  facts, 
that  is,  by  other  accomplished  acts  of  imitation.  The  re- 
sistance which  a  man  always  puts  up  against  the  influence, 
whether  rational  or  prestigeful,  of  another  man  whom  he 
is  about  to  copy  is  always  the  outcome  of  some  prior  in- 
fluence which  he  has  already  experienced.  His  delay  in 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  167 

imitating  is  due  to  the  intersection  in  his  mind  of  a  given 
current  of  imitation  with  an  inclination  towards  a  different 
imitation.  It  is  well  to  note  here  that  even  the  spread  of  an 
imitation  involves  it  in  an  encounter  and  struggle  with 
another  imitation. 

At  the  same  time  it  may  be  seen  that  the  necessity  of 
there  being  only  two  adversaries  in  social  oppositions  is  ex- 
plained by  the  universality  of  imitation,  the  essential  fact 
of  social  life.  In  fact,  only  two  theses  or  judgments  can 
be  in  opposition  wherever  this  elementary  fact  occurs :  the 
thesis  or  purpose  of  the  individual-model  and  the  thesis 
or  purpose  of  the  individual-copy.  If  we  wish  to  look 
abroad  over  masses  of  human  beings,  the  duel  may  be  seen 
to  be  reproduced,  magnified,  and  socialised  under  thousands 
of  forms;  but  the  more  narrow  and  complete  the  order  of 
the  phenomena  of  human  association  in  question,  the  more 
clearly  will  it  be  reflected  in  the  total  group  of  facts.  It 
is  very  clear  in  military  affairs  as  armies  become  disciplined 
and  centralised  and  as  it  comes  about  that  only  one  great 
combat  is  waged  at  the  same  time  on  the  same  battlefield 
instead  of  the  multiplied  single  combats  of  the  Homeric 
period.  It  is  very  distinct,  too,  in  religions,  as  they  grow 
more  united  and  more  hierarchical.  The  duel  between 
Catholicism  and  Protestantism,  or  between  Catholicism 
and  free  thought,  implies  an  advance  in  the  organisation 
of  these  cults  and  of  that  of  free  thought  as  well.  The  duel 
is  less  clear  in  politics,  but  it  becomes  more  clear  as  parties 
advance  in  organisation.  It  is  even  less  clear  in  industry; 
but  if  industry  ever  comes  to  be  organised  on  a  socialistic 
basis,  the  case  will  change.  In  language  it  is  very 
vague,  for  language  has  become  less  conscious  of  national- 
ity than  any  other  human  product.  However,  I  mentioned 
above  the  struggle  of  the  Langue  d'Oc  and -the  Langue 
d'O'il,  and  there  are  many  other  analogous  examples.  The 
duel  became  vague,  too,  in  jurisprudence  when  the  study  of 
law  ceased  to  be  a  passion,  and  law  schools  were  no  longer  re- 
cruited by  the  trained  and  enthusiastic  followers  of  famous 
professors,  and  ceased  to  witness  anything  comparable  to  the 


1 68  Laws  of  Imitation 

great  contentions  of  the  Sabiniani  and  Proculiani  at  Rome, 
of  the  Romanists  and  Feudists  at  the  close  of  the  Middle 
lAges,  etc. 

When  social  irresolution  has  been  produced  and  accentu- 
ated it  must  be  transformed  in  its  turn  into  resolution. 
How?  Through  a  fresh  series  of  individual  states  of  ir- 
resolution followed  by  acts  of  imitation.  If  several 
political  programmes  are  splitting  a  nation  up,  one  of  them 
will  spread,  through  means  of  propaganda  or  terror,  until 
it  has  won  over  almost  everybody  one  by  one.  The  same  is 
true  of  one  among  many  rival  churches  or  philosophies. 
It  is  useless  to  multiply  examples.  Finally,  when  a  certain 
degree  of  the  unanimity  which  is  never  absolute  comes  to 
be  realised,  all  irresolution,  whether  individual  or  social, 
is  very  nearly  over.  This  is  the  inevitable  finish.  Every- 
thing which  we  see  anchored  and  rooted  in  our  customs 
and  beliefs  of  to-day  began  by  being  the  object  of  ardent 
discussion.  There  is  no  peaceful  institution  which  has  not 
been  mothered  by  discord.  Grammars,  codes,  catechisms, 
written  and  unwritten  constitutions,  ruling  industries, 
sovereign  systems  of  versification,  all  these  things  which 
are  in  themselves  the  categorical  basis  of  society,  have  been 
the  slow  and  gradual  work  of  social  dialetic.  Every  gram- 
matical rule  expresses  the  triumph  of  some  habit  of  speech 
which  has  spread  at  the  expense  of  other  partially  con- 
tradictory habits.  Every  article  of  the  French  Code  is  a  bar- 
gain or  treaty  made  after  bloody  street  broils,  after  stirring 
journalistic  polemics,  and  after  rhetorical  parliamentary  tem- 
pests. No  constitutional  principle  has  ever  been  accepted 
except  in  the  wake  of  revolutions,  etc.1 

The  categories  of  the  individual  mind  originated  in  the 

1  A  distinction  has  been  made  between  constitutions  that  are  made  to 
order,  or,  if  you  like,  improvised,  and  contract  constitutions  that  are 
formed  little  by  little  (see  M.  Boutmy).  This  distinction  is  elsewhere 
of  importance.  But,  in  the  last  analysis,  constitutions  that  are  made  to 
order  themselves  result  from  a  transaction  between  the  opposing  parties 
in  the  bosom  of  the  parliament  from  which  they  spring.  Onlv  in  these 
cases,  there  is  but  one  struggle,  and  one  contract,  whereas  the  English 
Constitution,  for  example,  was  the  outcome  of  a  great  number  of  strug- 
gles and  contracts  between  pre-existent  powers. 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation         169 

same  way.1  Our  slightly  developed  notions  of  time,  space, 
matter,  and  force  are,  according  to  the  well-grounded  con- 
clusion of  the  new  psychology,  the  result  of  the  inhibi- 
tions, inductions,  and  acquisitions  that  take  place  in  the 
individual  during  the  first  period  of  life.  But,  just  as  the 
little  child  in  the  cradle  possesses  at  an  age  which  defies 
analysis  the  germ  of  vague  ideas  on  space  and  time,  if 
not  on  matter  and  force,  so  every  primitive  society  pre- 
sents to  us  a  confused  body  of  grammatical  rules,  of  cus- 
toms, of  religious  ideas,  and  of  political  forces  about  whose 
formation  we  are  absolutely  ignorant. 

The  conclusion  of  society's  logical  duel  occurs  in  three 
different  ways.  (i)  It  quite  often  happens  that  one  of 
the  two  adversaries  is  suppressed  merely  by  the  natural 
prolongation  of  the  other's  progress.  For  example, 
the  Phoenician  writing  had  only  to  continue  to  spread 
to  annihilate  the  cuneiform.  The  petroleum  lamp  had 
only  to  be  known  to  cause  the  brazier  of  nut  oil,  a  slight 
modification  of  the  Roman  lamp,  to  fall  into  disuse  in 
the  shanties  of  Southern  France.  Sometimes,  however, 
a  moment  arrives  when  the  progress  of  even  the  favoured 
rival  is  checked  by  some  increasing  difficulty  in  dis- 
lodging the  enemy  beyond  a  certain  point.  Then,  (2) 
if  the  need  of  settling  the  contradiction  is  felt  strongly 
enough,  arms  are  resorted  to,  and  victory  results  in  the 
violent  suppression  of  one  of  the  two  duellists.  Here 
may  be  easily  classed  the  case  in  which  an  authorita- 
tive, although  non-military,  force  intervenes,  as  hap- 
pened in  the  vote  of  the  Council  of  Nice  in  favour  of 
the  Athanasian  creed,  or  in  the  conversion  of  Con- 
stantine  to  Christianity,  or  as  happens  in  any  impor- 
tant decision  following  upon  the  deliberations  of  a  dictator 
or  assembly.  In  this  case,  the  vote  or  decree,  like  the 
victory  in  the  other  case,  is  a  new  external  condition  which 

1  In  a  treatise  published  in  August  and  September,  1889,  in  the 
Revue  philosophique,  under  the  title  of  Categories  logiques  et  institu- 
tions sociales,  and  reproduced  in  my  Logique  sociale  (1894),  I  have 
developed  at  length  the  parallel  which  I  have  here  confined  myself  to 
indicating. 


170  Laws  of  Imitation 

favours  one  of  the  two  rival  theses  or  volitions  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  other  and  disturbs  the  natural  play  of  spread- 
ing and  competing  imitations  somewhat  as  a  sudden  climatic 
change  resulting  from  a  geological  accident  in  a  given  lo- 
cality disturbs  the  propagation  of  life  by  preventing 
the  multiplication  of  some  naturally  fertile  animal  or 
vegetal  species  and  by  facilitating  that  of  others  which 
otherwise  had  been  less  prolific.  Finally,  (3)  the  an- 
tagonists are  often  seen  to  be  reconciled,  or  one  of  them  is 
seen  to  be  wisely  and  voluntarily  expelled  through  the  in- 
tervention of  some  new  discovery  or  invention. 

Let  us  consider  for  a  while  this  last  and,  as  it  seems  to 
me,  most  important  case,  for  here  the  intervening  condition 
comes  from  within  rather  than  from  without.  Besides, 
the  successful  discovery  or  invention  plays  the  same  part 
here  as  that  played  in  the  preceding  case  by  the  happy  in- 
spiration of  the  general  on  the  battlefield  whose  flash  of 
military  genius  ensured  the  victory  of  his  side.  It  took 
the  discovery,  for  example,  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood, 
to  put  an  end  to  the  interminable  discussions  of  the  anat- 
omists of  the  sixteenth  century.  It  took  the  astronom- 
ical discoveries  due  to  the  invention  of  the  telescope,  at 
the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century,  to  settle  the 
question  in  favour  of  the  Pythagorean  hypothesis  and  con- 
trary to  those  of  the  Aristotelians  whether  the  sun  re- 
volved around  the  earth  or  the  earth  around  the  sun,  as 
well  as  many  other  questions  which  divided  the  astrono- 
mists  into  two  camps.  Turn  to  any  library  and  see  how 
many  sometime  burning  questions,  how  many  belching 
volcanoes  of  argument  and  abuse,  are  now  cold  and  ex- 
tinct! And  the  cooling  down  has  almost  always  been 
started,  as  if  by  a  miracle,  by  some  scholarly,  or  apparently, 
by  some  even  erudite  or  imaginary,  discovery.  There  is 
not  a  page  of  the  catechism  which  is  at  present  unchallenged 
by  believers  but  whose  every  line  embodies  the  outcome  of 
violent  polemics  between  the  founders  of  its  dogma,  between 
the  Church  Fathers  or  the  Councils. 

What  was  needed  to  end  these  at  times  bloody  combats? 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  171 

The  discovery  of  some  more  or  less  authentic  and  sacred 
text,  or  of  some  new  theological  conception — unless  some 
supposedly  infallible  authority  cut  short  the  controversy  by 
force.  In  the  same  way,  how  many  conflicts  between 
men's  wills  and  desires  have  been  settled  or  singularly, 
calmed  down  by  some  industrial  or  even  by  some  political 
invention!  Before  the  invention  of  wind-mills  or  water- 
mills,  desire  for  bread  and  aversion  to  the  enervating  labour 
of  grinding  by  hand  were  openly  antagonistic  in  the  hearts 
of  the  master  and  his  slaves.  To  wish  to  eat  bread  was 
to  wish  this  atrocious  fatigue  for  one's  self  or  for  others, 
and  not  to  wish  this  fatigue  for  one's  self,  if  one  were  a 
slave,  was  to  wish  that  nobody  should  eat  bread.  When 
the  water-mill  was  invented,  it  was  an  immense  relief  to 
slave-labour,  and  the  aforesaid  desires  ceased  to  impede  each 
other.  Before  the  invention  of  the  cart,  one  of  the  most 
wonderful  inventions  of  antiquity,  the  need  to  transport 
heavy  weights  and  the  wish  not  to  exhaust  one's  strength 
by  carrying  them  on  one's  shoulder  and  not  to  prostrate 
beasts  of  burden  with  them  fought  together  and  blocked 
each  other's  way  in  people's  feelings.  In  short,  slavery 
was  but  a  necessary  evil  for  the  accomplishment  of  pain- 
ful and  obligatory  work  the  necessity  of  which  was  recog- 
nised by  the  slave  as  well  as  by  his  master.  The  master 
threw  the  burden  of  it  upon  the  slave  in  order  that,  as  far 
as  he  himself  was  concerned,  at  any  rate,  the  conflict  of 
contradictory  desires  might  be  settled;  otherwise  it  would 
have  been  settled  for  nobody.  This  chronic  antagonism 
of  desires  and  interests  gave  way  but  gradually  to  com- 
parative harmony  through  a  series  of  capital  inventions 
which  provided  for  the  utilisation  of  the  inanimate  forces 
of  nature,  of  steam,  of  the  winds  and  streams,  etc.,  to  the 
great  and  equal  advantage  of  both  master  and  slave. 

Here  each  intervening  invention  did  better  than  merely 
to  suppress  one  of  the  terms  of  the  difficulty;  it  suppressed 
their  contrariety.  This  is  what  happens  in  the  unravelling 
of  a  comedy  (for  an  invention  is  a  denouement,  and 
vice  versa),  when  the  contradiction  in  the  wills  of  a  father 


172  Laws  of  Imitation 

and  son,  for  example,  comes  to  a  point  that  seems  to  be  in- 
surmountable, some  unexplained  disclosure  shows  that  it  is 
entirely  fictitious  and  groundless.1  Industrial  inventions 
may  be  compared,  then,  to  the  unravelling  of  a  comedy,  in 
other  words,  they  are  pleasing  and  satisfactory  to  all  the 
world,  whereas  military  inventions,  with  their  perfected 
armaments  and  cunning  strategy  and  eagle-eyed  perception 
at  critical  moments,  plainly  suggest  the  unravelling  of  a 
tragedy  where  the  triumph  of  one  rival  is  the  death  of  the 
other,  where  so  much  passion  and  prejudice  is  embodied 
in  the  actors,  where  the  contradiction  between  their  de- 
sires and  their  convictions  is  so  serious  that  harmony  be- 
comes impossible  and  the  final  sacrifice  inevitable.  Every 
victory  is  in  this  way  the  suppression,  if  not  of  the  van- 
quished, at  least  of  his  national  and  resisting  will,  by  the 
national  will  of  the  victor.  It  is  this  rather  than  a  mutual 
agreement,  in  spite  of  the  treaty  which  follows  and  which 
is  an  involuntary  compact.  In  short,  history  is  a  tissue,  an 
interlacing  of  tragedies  and  comedies,  of  horrible  tragedies 
and  cheerless  comedies.  If  we  look  closely,  we  can 

1  We  sometimes  have,  or,  rather,  we  think  we  have,  these  happy  sur- 
prises in  politics  and  religion  as  well  as  in  industry.  Renan  makes  a 
somewhat  similar  remark.  "  In  great  historic  movements,"  he  says 
(the  early  Church,  the  Reformation,  the  French  Revolution),  "there 
is  a  moment  of  exaltation  when  men,  bound  together  by  some  common 
work  (Peter  and  Paul,  Lutherans  and  Calvinists,  Montagnards  and 
Girondists,  etc.),  turn  from  or  kill  one  another  for  some  shadow  of  a 
difference,  and  then  there  is  a  moment  of  reconciliation  when  the 
attempt  is  made  to  prove  that  the  apparent  enemies  have  been  really 
working  together  in  sympathy  for  the  same  end.  After  a  time  a  single 
doctrine  issues  forth  from  all  this  discord,  and  perfect  agreement  reigns 
(or  seems  to  reign)  between  the  followers  of  those  who  had  once 
anathematised  one  another"  (Les  Evangeles).  In  moments  of  exalta- 
tion the  slightest  shades  of  difference  must  lead  to  violence,  for  in  the 
extraordinary  light  of  an  exalted  conscience  this  shadow,  this  partial 
mutual  contradiction,  is  perceived,  and,  since  every  man  at  such  times 
embodies  himself  wholly  in  the  thesis  which  he  has  adopted,  and  devotes 
himself  absolutely  to  its  unlimited  propagation,  the  suppression  of  any 
thesis  that  contradicts  his  own  involves  the  murder  of  him  or  them  m 
whom  the  former  is  embodied.  Later,  when  the  first  actors  have  dis- 
appeared and  been  replaced  by  less  enthusiastic  successors,  the  luke- 
warmness  of  opposite  convictions  lets  us  throw  a  convenient  veil  over 
their  mutual  contradictions.  A  mere  lowering  of  the  general  plane  of 
belief  has  brought  about  this  change. 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation          173 

easily  distinguish  them.  This  is  perhaps  the  reason,  I 
may  say  in  passing,  why,  in  our  much  more  industrial  than 
military  age,  it  is  not  surprising  to  find  that,  on  the  stage, 
where  real  life  is  reflected,  tragedy  is  becoming  more  neg- 
lected day  by  day  and  is  yielding  to  comedy,  which  grows 
and  flourishes,  but  which  becomes  sombre  and  gloomy  at 
the  same  time. 


III.  The  Logical  Union 

Now  that  we  have  discussed  the  inventions  and  dis- 
coveries which  fight  and  replace  each  other,  I  have  to 
deal  with  those  which  aid  and  add  to  each  other.  It  must 
not  be  inferred  from  the  order  I  have  followed  that  progress 
through  substitution  originally  preceded  progress  through 
accumulation.  In  reality,  the  latter  necessarily  preceded, 
just  as  it  plainly  follows,  the  former.  The  latter  is  both 
the  alpha  and  the  omega;  the  former  is  but  a  middle  term. 
For  example,  the  formation  of  languages  certainly  began 
in  a  successive  acquisition  of  words,  of  verbal  forms,  which, 
as  they  expressed  ideas  hitherto  unexpressed,  found  no  ri- 
vals to  contest  their  establishment;  and  this  circumstance 
undoubtedly  facilitated  their  first  steps.  In  the  beginnings 
of  primordial  religion  the  legends  and  myths  with  which  it 
was  enriched  found  in  their  character  of  answers  to  en- 
tirely fresh  questions  no  prior  solutions  to  contradict  them, 
and  it  was  easy  for  them  not  to  contradict  each  other, 
since  they  gave  separate  answers  to  differerffquestions.  It 
was  probably  difficult  for  primitive  customs  to  graft  them- 
selves upon  the  waywardness  peculiar  to  a  state  of  nature; 
but  as  they  answered  to  problems  of  justice  which  had 
until  then  been  unpropounded  and  as  they  regulated  in- 
dividual relations  which  had  until  then  been  unregulated, 
they  had  the  good  fortune  to  have  no  pre-existing  customs 
to  combat,  and  it  was  an  easy  matter  for  them  not  to  become 
embroiled  with  one  another. 


174  Laws  of  Imitation 

Finally,  primitive  political  organisations  must  have  been 
free  to  develop  up  to  a  certain  point  without  any  inward 
disturbance  or  military  or  industrial  struggle.  The  very 
first  form  of  government  was  in  answer  to  a  demand  for 
security  which  had  until  then  received  no  satisfaction,  and 
this  circumstance  was  favourable  to  its  establishment. 
When  the  art  of  war  first  arose,  every  new  weapon  or 
drill  or  tactic  could  be  added  to  those  already  in  existence, 
whereas,  in  our  own  day  it  is  seldom  that  a  new  engine  of 
war  or  a  new  military  regulation  does  not  have  to  battle 
for  some  time  with  others  which  its  introduction  has 
rendered  useless.  In  the  beginnings  of  industry,  in  its  pas- 
toral and  agricultural  forms,  every  newly  cultivated  plant 
and  every  newly  domesticated  animal  were  added  to  the 
feeble  resources  of  field  and  barn,  of  garden  and  stable, 
and  did  not,  like  to-day,  replace  other  domestic  plants  and 
animals  of  almost  equal  worth.  At  that  time,  likewise, 
every  new  astronomical  or  physical  observation  which  lit 
up  some  hitherto  obscure  point  in  the  human  mind  took 
an  undisputed  place  side  by  side  with  anterior  observa- 
tions which  it  in  no  way  contradicted.  It  was  a  question 
of  scattering  shadows,  not  of  overcoming  falsehoods.  It 
was  a  question  of  exploiting  unbounded  and  uncultivated 
lands,  not  of  improving  lands  that  had  already  been  worked 
by  other  possessors. 

But  we  should  not  overlook  the  fact  that  the  kind  of  ac- 
cumulation which  precedes  substitution  by  means  of 
logical  duels  is  different  from  that  which  follows  it.  The 
first  kind  consists  of  a  weak  aggregation  of  elements  whose 
principal  bond  lies  in  not  contradicting  one  another;  the 
second,  in  a  vigorous  group  of  elements  which  not  only  do 
not  contradict  one  another,  but,  for  the  most  part,  confirm 
one  another.  And  this  should  be  so,  because  of  the  con- 
tinually growing  need  of  strong  and  comprehensive  belief. 
From  what  has  preceded  we  can  already  see  the  truth  of  this 
remark;  it  will  presently  become  still  more  apparent.  I 
will  show  that  along  all  lines  there  are  two  distinct  kinds 
of  inventions  or  discoveries,  those  that  are  capable  of  in- 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  175 

definite  accumulation  (although  they  may  also  be  replaced) 
and  those  that,  after  a  certain  degree  of  accumulation  has 
been  reached,  must,  if  progress  is  to  continue,  be  replaced. 
Now,  the  distribution  of  both  kinds  takes  place  quite  natur- 
ally in  the  course  of  progress.  The  first  both  precede  and 
follow  the  second,  but  in  the  latter  instance,  after  the  exhaus- 
tion of  the  second,  they  present  a  systematic  character  which 
they  previously  lacked. 

A  language  may  grow  without  limit  through  the  ad- 
dition of  new  words  corresponding  to  new  ideas; 
but  although  nothing  may  check  the  increasing  bulk 
of  its  vocabulary,  the  additions  to  its  grammar  are  re- 
stricted. Outside  of  a  small  number  of  grammatical  rules 
and  forms  which  are  alike  in  character  and  which  meet, 
more  or  less  satisfactorily,  all  the  needs  of  the  lan- 
guage, no  new  rule  or  form  can  arise  without  entering  into 
opposition  with  others  and  without  tending  to  recast  the 
idiom  in  a  different  mould.  If  the  idea  of  expressing  case 
by  means  of  a  preposition  followed  by  an  article  comes  into 
a  language  which  is  already  possessed  of  declensions,  either 
the  article  and  the  preposition  must  eventually  eliminate  the 
declensions,  or  the  declensions  must  repel  them.  Now, 
let  me  observe,  after  the  grammar  of  a  language  has  be- 
come fixed,  its  vocabulary  does  not  cease  to  grow  richer; 
on  the  contrary,  it  increases  still  more  rapidly;  besides, 
from  this  time  on,  as  every  new  term  takes  on  the  same 
grammatical  livery,  it  not  only  does  not  contradict  the 
others,  but  even  indirectly  confirms  their  implicit  prop- 
ositions. For  example,  every  new  word  which  came 
into  Latin  with  the  termination  us  or  a  seemed  in  its  de- 
clension to  reiterate  and  confirm  that  which  was  said  by 
all  the  other  words  similarly  terminated  and  declined, 
namely,  the  following  general  propositions:  us  and  a  are 
signs  of  Latinity,  i,  u,  a,  um  are  signs  of  the  genitive,  the 
dative,  the  accusative,  etc. 

Religions  have  also,  like  languages,  two  aspects.  They 
have  their  dictionary  of  narrative  and  legend,  their  start- 
ing point,  and  their  religious  grammar  of  dogma  and 


176  Laws  of  Imitation 

ritual.  The  former  is  composed  of  Biblical  or  mythological 
tales,  of  histories  of  gods  and  demi-gods,  of  heroes  and 
saints,  and  it  can  develop  without  stop;  but  the  latter 
cannot  be  extended  in  the  same  way.  After  all  the  main 
conscience-tormenting  problems  have  been  solved  accord- 
ing to  the  peculiar  principle  of  the  given  religion,  a  moment 
comes  when  no  new  dogma  can  be  introduced  which  does 
not  partly  contradict  established  dogma;  similarly,  no  new 
rite,  in  as  much  as  it  is  an  expression  of  dogma,  can  be  freely 
introduced  when  all  the  dogmas  have  already  been  ex- 
pressed in  ritual.  Now,  after  the  creed  and  ritual  of  a  re- 
ligion have  been  defined,  its  martyrology,  hagiography,  and 
ecclesiastical  history  never  fail  to  grow  richer,  and  this  even 
more  rapidly  than  before.  Moreover,  the  saints  and  mar- 
tyrs and  devotees  of  a  mature  religion,  not  only  do  not  con- 
tradict one  another  in  the  conventionality  and  orthodoxy  of 
all  their  acts,  thoughts,  and  even  miracles,  but  mutually  re- 
flect and  endorse  one  another.  In  this  respect  they  differ 
from  the  divine  or  heroic  persons,  from  the  gods  and  demi- 
gods, from  the  patriarchs  and  apostles,  as  well  as  from  the 
legends  and  prodigies,  that  succeeded  one  another  before 
the  making  of  dogma  and  ritual. 

Here  I  must  open  a  parenthesis  for  quite  an  important 
observation.  If  a  religion  is  primarily  narrative,  it  is 
highly  variable  and  plastic;  if  it  is  primarily  dogmatic,  it 
is  essentially  unchangeable.  In  Greco-Latin  paganism 
there  is  almost  no  dogma,  and  since  ritual  has,  therefore, 
almost  no  dogmatic  significance  its  symbolism  is  of  the 
more  distinctly  narrative  kind.  It  may  represent,  for  ex- 
ample, an  episode  in  the  life  of  Ceres  or  Bacchus.  Under- 
stood in  this  way  there  may  be  no  end  to  the  ac- 
cumulation of  different  rites.  If  dogma  amounted  to  al- 
most nothing,  narrative  was  almost  everything,  in  ancient 
polytheism.  Therefore  it  had  an  incredible  facility  for 
enrichment.  This  is  analogous  to  the  inflation  of  a  modern 
idiom,  like  English,  which,  although  it  is  grammatically 
very  poor,  incorporates  all  manner  of  foreign  words  by 
merely  making  a  slight  change  in  their  termination,  a  kind 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation          1 77 

of  linguistic  baptism.  But  although  this  capacity  for  un- 
limited enlargement  is  a  cause  of  viability  in  a  narrative 
religion,  this  does  not  mean  that  it  is  particularly  well 
fortified  against  the  attacks  of  criticism.  It  is  quite  a  dif- 
ferent thing  from  the  solid  theological  system  or  body  of 
self-consistent  or  apparently  self-consistent  dogma  and 
dogmatic  ritual  that  can  rise  up  in  a  mass  to  confront  any 
outside  controversialist  that  may  oppose  them. 

But  to  return.  What  is  true  of  religion  is  also  true  of 
that  which  seeks  to  replace  it,  of  science.  As  long  as  sci- 
ence merely  enumerates  and  describes  facts,  sense-given 
data,  it  is  susceptible  of  indefinite  extension.  And  science 
begins  in  this  way  by  being  a  collection  of  non-related  as 
well  as  non-contradictory  phenomena.  But  as  soon  as  it 
becomes  dogmatic  and  law-making,  in  turn,  as  soon  as  it 
conceives  of  theories  that  are  able  to  give  to  facts  the  air 
of  mutual  confirmation  instead  of  merely  mutual  non-con- 
tradiction, as  soon,  indeed,  as  it  unwittingly  synthesises 
the  data  of  sensation  under  intuitive  mental  forms  which 
are  implicit  general  propositions  called  time,  space, 
matter,  and  force,  then  science  becomes,  perhaps,  the 
most  incapable  of  extension  of  all  human  achieve- 
ments. Scientific  theories  undoubtedly  become  more  com- 
plete, but  this  happens  through  mutual  substitution  and 
through  periodically  fresh  starts,  whereas  observations  and 
experiments  go  on  accumulating.  Certain  leading  hy- 
potheses that  reappear  from  one  age  to  another — atomism, 
dynamism  (modern  evolutionism),  monadology,  idealism 
(Platonic  or  Hegelian) — are  the  inflexible  frames  of  the 
swelling  and  overflowing  mass  of  facts.  Only,  among 
these  master  thoughts,  these  hypotheses  or  inventions  of 
science,  there  are  certain  ones  which  receive  increasing1 
confirmation  from  one  another  and  from  the  continual  ac- 
cumulation of  newly  discovered  facts  which,  in  consequence, 
no  longer  merely  restrict  themselves  to  not  contradicting 
one  another,  but  reciprocally  repeat  and  confirm  one  another, 
as  if  bearing  witness  together  to  the  same  law  or  to  the 
same  collective  proposition.  Before  Newton,  successive  as- 


178  Laws  of  Imitation 

tronomical  discoveries  did  not  contradict  one  another;  since 
Newton,  they  confirm  one  another.  Ideally,  every  distinct 
science  should  be  reducible,  like  modern  astronomy,  to  a 
single  formula,  and  these  different  formulas  should  be 
bound  together  by  some  higher  formula.  In  a  word,  there 
should  be  no  longer  sciences,  but  Science,  just  as  in  a 
polytheistic  religion  which  has  become  monotheistic  by 
means  of  selection  there  are  no  longer  gods,  but  God. 

And  so  in  a  tribe  which  passes  from  a  pastoral  to  an  ag- 
ricultural and  then  to  a  manufacturing  state,  adding  wheat 
fields  and  rice  fields  to  its  pasture  lands,  enriching  its 
orchards  and  gardens,  elaborating  its  textile  fabrics,  inter- 
ests do  not  fail  to  multiply  nor  corresponding  laws  and  cus- 
toms to  accumulate.  But  the  general  principles  of  law 
which  finally  shine  out  from  such  a  medley  are  always  lim- 
ited in  number,  and  for  them  progress  means  substitution. 
Now,  after  the  formation  of  a  legal  grammar,  the  dictionary 
of  law,  in  France  called  the  Bulletin  des  lots,  can,  of  course, 
visibly  enlarge  and  redouble  its  activity  as  well;  but  from 
this  time  on,  succeeding  laws  are  garbed  in  the  same  uniform 
of  theory,  a  uniform  which  adapts  them  to  codification,  to 
a  rural  code,  to  a  commercial  code,  to  a  maritime  code,  etc. 
This  systematisation  would  have  been  impossible  before. 

Finally,  from  the  point  of  view  of  government  (I  use  the 
word  in  its  large  sense  to  mean  the  directed  activity  of  a 
nation  in  all  its  forms)  analogous  distinctions  are  ex- 
hibited. We  may  say  that  the  directed  national  activity 
is  either  militant  or  industrial  and  that  the  former  type  of 
activity  is  divisible  into  military  and  politcal  forces,  ac- 
cording as  it  consists  of  the  short  and  bloody  warfare  of 
armies  or  of  the  long  and  stormy  warfare  of  parties,  of  the 
oppression  of  a  conquered  and  tributary  foreigner  or  of  that 
of  a  home  foe  who  has  been  crushed  down  by  taxation.  Now, 
it  is  remarkable  that  in  both  these  subdivisions,  the  adminis- 
trative side  is  continually  unfolding  and  improving  as  its 
functions  multiply,  whereas  the  arts  of  war  and  statesman- 
ship are  always  moving  in  a  narrow  circle  of  strategies  and 
constitutions  which  may  be  gathered  up  into  a  small  num- 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  179 

her  of  different  and  mutually  exclusive  types.  But  it  is 
only  after  civil  or  military  functions  have  been  taken  and 
multiplied  by  some  constitutional  or  strategic  plan,  that 
they  converge,  instead  of  merely  refraining  from  over- 
diverging,  and  that  they  form  a  true  state  or  army,  instead  of 
a  horde  or  federation  of  barbarians. 

As  for  the  industrial  division  of  directed  national  ac- 
tivity, the  same  remarks  are  applicable,  modified  by  certain 
observations.  Industry,  as  I  have  already  said,  can  be 
separated  only  in  thought  from  the  dominant  ethics  and 
aesthetics  of  any  given  period.  If  we  hold  to  this  idea  as 
we  should,  we  shall  perceive  that  only  a  certain  number  of 
new  industrial  ideas  or  inventions  are,  as  I  have  so  often 
repeated,  susceptible  of  indefinite  progress,  that  is  to  say,  of 
an  almost  endless  amount  of  accumulation.  The  industrial 
machinery  of  course  increases;  but  the  ends  of  the  service  to 
which  all  these  means  are  eventually  put,  follow  one  another 
•only  through  mutual  elimination.  At  first  sight  and  taking 
the  means  and  ends  of  industry  collectively  without  dis- 
tinguishing between  them,  it  would  seem  as  if  the  in- 
dustrial systems  of  different  periods  had  wholly  replaced 
each  other.  Nothing  is  less  like  the  industry  of  Greece  or 
Rome  than  the  industry  of  Assyria;  the  industry  of  the 
seventeenth  century  is  quite  unlike  that  of  the  Middle  Ages 
and  modern  manufacture  unlike  the  hand  labour  of  our 
forefathers.  In  fact,  each  of  these  great  groups  of  human 
actions  is  held  together  and  inspired  by  some  great  domi- 
nant desire  which  completely  changes  from  one  age  to  an- 
other. It  may  be  the  desire  to  prepare  for  the  life  after 
death  or  the  desire  to  propitiate  one's  gods  or  to  honour 
and  embellish  one's  city,  or  the  desire  to  give  expression 
to  religious  faith  or  kingly  pride  or  the  desire  to  equalise 
society.  The  change  in  this  highest  aim  of  all  explains  the 
sequence  of  those  striking  works  in  which  a  whole  period 
is  epitomised,  works  like  the  Egyptian  tomb,  the  Greek 
temple,  the  Roman  circus  and  triumphal  arch,  the  mediaeval 
cathedral,  the  palace  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  railroad 
stations  or  city  structures  of  to-day. 


180  Laws  of  Imitation 

But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  the  civilisation  and  not  the 
industry  which  has  disappeared  forever  in  this  way,  if  by 
civilisation  we  mean  the  sum  of  a  period's  moral  and 
aesthetic  aims  and  industrial  means.  The  junction  of  the 
former  with  the  latter  is  always  partially  accidental.  For 
the  given  ends  exploited  the,  given  means  because  they 
happened  to  run  across  them,  but  they  might  have  made 
use  of  others,  and  although  the  given  means  did  serve  the 
given  ends,  they  stood  ready  to  serve  different  ones  as  well. 
Now,  the  ends  pass  away;  but  the  means,  or  what  is  essen- 
tial in  them,  remain.  An  imperfect  machine  survives,  by 
a  sort  of  metempsychosis,  in  the  more  perfect  and  com- 
plex one  which  was  in  whole  or  in  part  the  cause  of  its 
annihilation;  and  every  primitive  mechanism  such  as  the 
rod,  the  lever,  or  the  wheel  reappears  in  our  most  modern 
implements.  The  long  bow  survives  in  the  cross  bow,  the 
cross  bow  in  the  arquebuse  and  gun.  The  primitive  cart 
survives  in  the  carriage  on  springs  and  the  latter  in  the 
locomotive.  The  stage-coach  was  not  routed,  but  absorbed, 
by  the  locomotive,  which  added  something  to  it,  namely, 
steam  and  the  capacity  for  a  higher  rate  of  speed.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  Christian's  desire  for  mystical  salvation  did 
not  absorb,  but  actually  routed  the  Roman's  desire  for  civic 
glory,  just  as  the  Copernican  theory  banished  the  Ptolemaic 
system. 

In  short,  the  industrial  inventions  which  have  followed 
one  another  for  thousands  of  years  may  be  compared  to 
the  vocabulary  of  a  language  or  to  the  facts  of  science. 
As  I  have  said  above,  many  tools  and  products  are,  in  truth, 
dethroned  by  others,  just  as  many  inexact  pieces  of  in- 
formation have  been  driven  out  by  more  accurate  knowl- 
edge, but,  in  the  long  run,  the  number  of  tools  and  prod- 
ucts, like  the  sum  of  knowledge,  has  increased.  Science 
properly  called,  a  collection  of  facts  that  can  be  drawn 
upon  to  prove  a  given  theory,  is  comparable  to  industry 
properly  called,  a  store  of  processes  and  mechanisms  that 
can  serve  to  actualise  a  given  system  of  morals  or  aesthetics. 
Industry,  in  this  sense,  is  the  content  whose  form  is  sup- 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  181 

plied  by  prevailing  ideas  of  justice  and  beauty,  by  ideas 
concerning  the  criterion  of  conduct.  And  by  industry 
I  also  mean  art,  in  as  much  as  it  is  distinct  from  the 
changing  ideal  which  uplifts  it  and  which  lends  to  its 
manifold  secrets  and  facilities  their  profound  inspiration. 
Now,  the  resources  of  industry,  including  the  artifices  of 
artists  and  even  of  poets,  go  on  multiplying  both  before 
and  after  the  formation  of  well-defined  moral  and  aesthetic 
systems,  that  is,  of  a  hierarchy  of  wants  consecrated  by 
unanimous  judgment,  but,  before  this  is  formed,  they  are 
scattered,  whereas,  after  it  is  formed,  they  are  concentrated ; 
and  it  is  only  then,  when  a  single  thought  is  implicitly  af- 
firmed in  all  the  branches  of  national  industry,  that  they 
present  the  spectacle  of  that  mutual  confirmation,  of  that 
unique  orientation  and  of  that  admirable  internal  harmony 
which  was  known  in  Greece  and  in  the  twelfth  century  of 
our  era  and  which  our  grandchildren  may,  perhaps,  live  to 
see. 

For  the  time  being,  we  must  confess,  and  this  remark 
leads  us  to  new  considerations,  our  modern  contemporary 
epoch  is  in  search  of  its  pole.  Its  character  has  been 
rightly  described  as  chiefly  scientific  and  industrial.  By 
that  we  must  understand  that  theoretically  a  successful 
search  for  facts  has  predominated  over  preoccupation  with 
philosophic  ideas  and  that,  practically,  a  search  for  the 
means  has  predominated  over  regard  for  the  ends  of  ac- 
tivity. That  means  that  our  modern  world  has  at  all 
times  and  places  instinctively  precipitated  itself  in  the  di- 
rection of  discoveries  or  inventions  that  can  be  accumulated 
without  questioning  whether  the  neglected  discoveries  or 
inventions  that  can  be  substituted  for  one  another  did  not 
alone  justify  and  give  value  to  the  others.  But  let  us,  at 
any  rate,  put  this  question  to  ourselves :  Is  it  true  that  the 
sides  of  social  thought  and  conduct  that  cannot  be  indefi- 
nitely extended  (grammars,  dogma,  and  theories,  principles 
of  justice,  political  policy  and  strategy,  morals  and  aesthetics) 
are  less  worth  cultivating  than  the  sides  that  can  be  in- 
definitely extended  (vocabularies,  mythologies  and  descrip- 


1 82  Laws  of  Imitation 

tive  sciences,  customs,  collections  of  laws,  industries,  sys- 
tems of  civil  and  military  administration)  ? 

Indeed,  on  the  contrary,  the  side  open  to  substitution, 
that  which  after  a  certain  point  cannot  be  extended,  is  al- 
ways the  essential  side.  Grammar  is  the  whole  of  lan- 
guage. Theory  is  the  whole  of  science,  and  dogma,  of 
religion.  Principles  constitute  justice.  Strategy,  war. 
Government  is  but  a  political  idea.  Morality  is  the  sum  of 
industry,  for  industry  amounts  to  neither  more  nor  less 
than  its  end.  The  ideal  is  surely  the  all  of  art.  What 
are  words  good  for  but  for  building  sentences,  or  facts, 
but  for  making  theories?  What  are  laws  good  for  but  to 
unfold  or  consecrate  higher  principles  of  justice?  For 
what  use  are  the  arms,  the  tactics,  and  the  different  divi- 
sions of  an  army  but  to  form  part  of  the  strategical  plan 
of  the  general  in  command  ?  Of  what  use  are  the  multiple 
services,  functions,  and  administrative  departments  of  a 
state  but  to  aid  in  the  constitutional  schemes  of  the  states- 
man who  represents  the  victorious  political  party?  Of 
what  use  are  the  different  crafts  and  products  of  a  coun- 
try but  to  co-operate  in  achieving  the  objects  of  its  pre- 
vailing morality?  Of  what  use  are  schools  and  works  of 
art  and  literature  to  a  society  but  to  formulate  and 
strengthen  its  characteristic  ideal? 

Only  it  is  much  easier  to  move  forward  in  the  direction 
of  possible  acquisitions  and  endowments  than  in  that  of 
necessary  substitutions  and  sacrifices.  It  is  much  easier 
to  pile  up  neologism  upon  neologism  than  to  master  one's 
own  tongue  and,  thereby,  gradually  improve  its  grammar; 
to  bring  together  scientific  observations  and  experiments, 
than  to  supply  science  with  theories  of  a  more  general  and 
demonstrated  order;  to  multiply  miracles  and  pious  prac- 
tices than  to  substitute  rational  for  outworn  religious 
dogma;  to  manufacture  laws  by  the  dozen  than  to  con- 
ceive of  a  new  principle  of  justice  fitted  to  conciliate  all 
interests;  to  increase  the  complexity  of  armaments  and 
tactics,  of  offices  and  functions,  and  to  have  excellent  civil 
or  military  administrators  than  to  have  eminent  generals 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  183 

or  statesmen  able  to  conceive  of  the  proper  plan  at  the 
desired  moment  and  to  contribute  by  their  example  to  re- 
modelling and  improving  military  art  or  statecraft;  to  mul- 
tiply wants  by  virtue  of  an  ever  richer  and  more  varied 
consumption  and  production  than  to  substitute  for  some 
dominant  want  a  superior  and  preferable  want,  one 
more  conducive  to  order  and  peace;  finally,  to  artistic- 
ally unroll  an  inexhaustible  series  of  tricks  and  ingenuities 
than  to  obtain  the  slightest  insight  into  some  fine  new  thing 
that  was  more  worthy  of  exciting  love  and  enthusiasm. 

But  modern  Europe  has  been  somewhat  carried  away  by 
the  deceptive  charm  of  doing  things  easily.  This  is  the 
reason  of  the  especially  striking  contrast  between  the 
wealth  of  its  legislation  and  the  feebleness  of  its  juridical 
system  (compare  it,  in  this  particular,  with  Trajan's 
Rome  or  even  with  Justinian's  Constantinople),  or  between 
its  industrial  exuberance  and  its  aesthetic  poverty  (compare 
it,  in  this  respect,  to  the  great  days  of  the  French  Middle 
Ages  or  of  the  Italian  Renaissance).  I  might  also  bring 
forward  to  a  certain  extent  the  contrast  between 
modern  Europe's  sciences  and  its  philosophy  of  science. 
But  I  hasten  to  recognise  the  fact  that  although  the  philo- 
sophic side  of  its  knowledge  is  comparatively  neglected, 
it  has  been  the  object  of  a  much  more  profound  and  ex- 
tensive cultivation  than  the  moral  side  of  its  activity.  In- 
dustry, from  this  point  of  view,  is  notably  behind  science. 
It  has  aroused,  on  all  sides,  factitious  wants  which  it 
satisfies  indiscriminately  without  bothering  itself  about 
their  arrangement  or  harmony.  In  this  it  resembles  the 
ill-digested  science  of  the  sixteenth  century  which  gave 
birth  to  a  crop  of  incoherent  and  pedantic  guesses  and 
vagaries  each  of  which  was  fostered  by  a  certain  number  of 
facts.  Contemporary  activity,  contemporary  civilisation 
must  straighten  out  this  chaos  of  heterogeneous  wants, 
just  as  the  science  of  the  sixteenth  century  had  to  bridle 
the  imagination  of  its  scholars,  and  prune  away  the  ma- 
jority of  their  conceptions  in  order  to  give  others  a  chance 
to  be  transformed  into  theories.  What  are  the  simple 


184  Laws  of  Imitation 

and  fruitful  wants  which  the  future  will  develop,  and  what 
are  the  sterile  and  smothered  wants  that  it  will  cast 
aside?  This  is  the  secret.  It  is  hard  to  find  out,  but  we 
must  make  the  attempt.  All  these  wrangling  or  ill-adjusted 
wants  which  flourish  at  every  point  on  the  industrial  field,, 
and  which  have  their  passionate  devotees,  constitute  a  sort 
of  moral  fetichism  or  polytheism  which  seeks  to  branch 
out  into  a  comprehensive  and  authoritative  moral  monothe- 
ism, into  a  great  new  and  potent  system  of  aesthetics. 

Besides,  it  is  industry  far  more  than  civilisation  that  has 
progressed  in  recent  times.  As  a  proof  of  this  I  might 
point  to  my  embarrassment  a  while  ago  in  trying  to  find 
some  characteristic  monument  of  our  modern  industry. 
It  is  a  strange  fact  and  one  that  has  been  lost  sight  of  that, 
at  present,  the  grandest  works  of  industry  are  not  indus- 
trial products,  but  industrial  implements,  namely,  great 
factories,  prodigious  machines,  immense  railroad  stations. 
How  trivial  are  the  things,  even  the  most  important  things, 
which  come  out  of  our  great  foundries  or  factories;  how 
trivial  the  fine  houses  and  theatres  and  city  halls  compared 
with  the  giant  laboratories  themselves!  How  the  petty 
magnificence  of  our  private  or  public  luxury  fades  away 
before  our  industrial  expositions,  where  the  sole  useful- 
ness of  the  products  is  self-display!  Once  the  opposite 
was  true,  when  the  miserable  huts  of  Pharaoh's  fellahs,  or 
the  obscure  stalls  of  mediaeval  artisans  surrounded  the  gi- 
gantic pyramid  or  cathedral  that  was  reared  on  high 
through  the  sum  of  their  combined  efforts.  It  seems  in 
these  days  as  if  industry  existed  for  the  sake  of  industry, 
just  as  science  exists  for  the  sake  of  science. 


Additional   Considerations 

We  have  seen  that  social^  progress  is  accomplished 
through  a  series  of  substitutions  and  accumulations.  It 
is  certainly  necessary  to  distinguish  between  these  two  proc- 
esses; and  yet  evolutionists  have  made  the  mistake,  here 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  185 

as  elsewhere,  of  merging  them  together  Perhaps 
the  term  evolution  is  badly  chosen.  We  may  call  it  social 
evolution,  however,  when  an  invention  quietly  spreads 
through  imitation — the  elementary  fact  in  society;  or  even 
when  a  new  invention  that  has  already  been  imitated  grafts 
itself  upon  a  prior  one  which  it  fosters  and  completes.  And 
yet  why  should  we  not  use,  in  this  second  instance,  the 
more  precise  term  of  insertion?  A  philosophy  of  universal 
Insertion  would  be  a  happy  contribution  to  the  correction 
of  the  theory  of  universal  Evolution.  Finally,  when  a  new, 
invention,  an  invisible  microbe  at  first,  later  on  a  fatal 
disease,  brings  with  it  a  germ  which  will  eventually  destroy, 
the  old  invention  to  which  it  attaches  itself,  how  can  the 
latter  be  said  to  evolve?  Did  the  Roman  Empire  evolve 
when  Christianity  inoculated  it  with  the  virus  of  radical 
negations  of  its  fundamental  principles?  No,  this  was 
counter-evolution,  revolution  perhaps,  but  certainly  not 
evolution.  At  bottom,  of  course,  in  this  case  as  in  the  pre- 
ceding, there  is  nothing,  elementarily,  but  evolution,  be- 
cause everything  is  imitation;  but,  since  these  evolutions 
and  imitations  struggle  against  each  other,  it  is  a  great 
mistake  to  consider  the  sum  formed  by  these  conflicting 
elements  as  a  single  evolution.  I  thought  it  important 
to  note  this  fact  in  passing. 

Let  us  note  another  more  important  fact.  Whatever 
method  may  be  used  to  suppress  conflict  between  beliefs  or 
between  interests  and  to  bring  about  their  agreement,  it  al- 
most always  happens  (does  it  not  always  happen?)  that  the 
resulting  harmony  creates  a  new  kind  of  antagonism.  For 
contradictions  and  contrarieties  of  details,  some  massive  con- 
tradiction or  contrariety  has  been  substituted,  and  this  also 
seeks  a  solution  for  itself  only  to  raise  up  still  greater  op- 
positions, and  so  on  until  the  final  solution  is  reached.  In- 
stead of  quarrelling  together  over  cattle  or  game,  over 
utilitarian  objects,  a  million  of  men  will  organise  them- 
selves into  an  army  and  work  together  for  the  subjection 
of  a  neighbouring  people.  This  is  the  rallying  point  of 
all  their  avarice  and  activity.  And,  in  fact,  before  com- 


1 86  Laws  of  Imitation 

merce  and  exchange  existed,  militarism  must  have  been  for 
a  long  time  the  only  logical  outcome  of  the  problem  raised 
up  by  rival  interests.  But  militarism  gives  birth  to  war, 
and  war  between  two  peoples  is  a  substitute  for  thousands 
of  individual  struggles. 

In  the  same  way  a  group  of  some  hundred  men  will 
cease  from  individual  fights  and  plots  and  counterplots  and 
will  set  to  labour  together  in  one  workshop.  Their  acts 
are  no  longer  antagonistic,  but  from  this  very  fact  an  un- 
expected contrariety  arises,  namely,  the  rivalry  of  their 
workshop  with  others  that  turn  out  the  same  kind  of  goods. 
This  is  not  all.  The  workmen  in  every  factory  are  col- 
lectively interested  in  its  prosperity;  in  any  case  their  desires 
in  production,  thanks  to  the  division  of  organised  labour, 
converge  towards  the  same  end.  The  soldiers  of  an  army 
have  likewise  a  common  interest  in  victory.  But,  at  the 
same  time,  the  struggle  between  so-called  Capital  and  so- 
called  Labour,  that  is,  between  the  total  number  of  employers 
and  the  total  number  of  workmen,1  as  well  as  rivalry  be- 
tween different  ranks  in  an  army  or  between  different 
classes  in  a  nation,  is  aroused  by  this  imperfect  agreement. 
These  teleological  problems  are  inherent  in  the  very  prog- 
ress of  industrial  or  military  organisation,  just  as  scientific 
progress  raises  problems  of  logic  and  uncloaks  soluble  and 
insoluble  antinomies  of  reason  which  an  earlier  state  of 
ignorance  had  concealed. 

The  feudal  system  on  one  hand  and  the  ecclesiastical 
hierarchy  on  the  other  were  powerful  in  allaying  the  pas- 
sions and  consolidating  the  interests  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
But  the  great  and  bloody  conflict  between  the  Papacy  and 
the  Empire,  between  the  Guelphs,  the  partisans  of  the  Pope, 
and  the  Ghibellines,  the  partisans  of  the  Emperor  (at  first 
a  logical,  later,  a  teleological,  i.  e.,  political,  duel),  arose 

1  This  is  so  true  that  already  in  the  sixteenth  century  we  find 
"  opposed  to  syndicates  of  employers  (corporations),  syndicates  of 
organised  labourers"  (see  Louis  Guibert,  Les  anciennes  corporations  en 
Limousin,  etc.).  Combinations  of  workmen  in  Paris,  in  Lyons,  and 
elsewhere,  "  supply  the  printers,  the  bakers,  the  hatters,  with  resources 
with  which  to  resist  their  masters." 


The  Logical  Laws  of  Imitation  187 

from  the  chock  of  these  two  harmonious  systems  which 
could  not  be  mutually  harmonised  without  the  downfall  of 
one  of  them.  The  question  is  whether  or  not  the  displace- 
ment of  such  contradictions  or  contrarieties  is  advantageous 
and  whether  the  harmony  of  interests  or  of  minds  can  ever 
be  complete  without  being  offset  by  discord.  In  other 
words,  whether  or  not  a  certain  amount  of  error  and  false- 
hood, of  deception  and  sacrifice,  will  not  always  be  neces- 
sary for  the  maintenance  of  social  peace? 

When  the  displacement  of  contradictions  or  contrarie- 
ties consists  in  their  centralisation,  an  advantage  is  cer- 
tainly gained.  Although  the  organisation  of  standing 
armies  may  provoke  cruel  wars,  that  is  better  than  in- 
numerable combats  of  small  feudal  bands  or  of  primitive 
families.  Although  the  progress  of  the  sciences  may  have 
disclosed  profound  mysteries,  and  although  great  chasms 
may  divide  different  schools  of  philosophy  because  of 
the  new  questions  over  which  they  contend  in  arguments 
drawn  from  the  same  scientific  arsenal,  we  are  not  able  to  re- 
gret the  times  of  ignorance  that  were  free  from  these  prob- 
lems. In  short,  science  has  done  more  to  satisfy  poignant 
curiosity  than  to  arouse  it,  civilisation  has  done  more  to 
satisfy  needs  than  to  engender  passions.  Inventions  and 
discoveries  act  as  cures  through  the  method  of  substitution. 
By  stilling  natural  wants  and  arousing  those  of  luxury,  in- 
ventions substitute  less  urgent  for  more  urgent  desires. 
Discoveries  replace  the  first  very  anxious  states  of  igno- 
rance by  perhaps  as  many,  but,  at  any  rate,  by  less  disquiet- 
ing, states  of  not-knowing.  And,  then,  can  we  not  see  the 
goal  to  which  this  protean  transformation  of  contradiction 
and  contrariety  leads  us?  Competition  ends  inevitably  in 
monopoly.  Free  trade  and  laisser-aller  tends  towards  the 
legal  organisation  of  labour.  War  tends  to  the  hyper- 
trophy of  states; — it  will  go  on  producing  enormous  ag- 
glomerations until  the  political  unity  of  the  civilised  world  is 
finally  consummated  and  universal  peace  is  assured.  The 
more  the  conflict  between  masses  that  is  caused  by  the  sup- 
pression of  minor  conflicts  increases  in  emphasis  and  scale 


1 88  Laws  of  Imitation 

(until  a  point  is  even  reached  which  makes  us  regret  the  lat- 
ter), the  more  inevitable  this  peaceful  outcome  of  it  all  be- 
comes. When  a  royal  army  was  substituted  for  provincial  or 
feudal  militia,  it  began  by  containing  a  much  smaller  num- 
ber of  soldiers  than  the  effective  total  of  the  former  militia, 
and  consequently  the  amount  of  disaster  involved  in  the 
conflicts  of  royal  armies  was  far  from  equalling  that  which 
would  have  existed  in  the  conflicts  which  they  precluded. 
But  this  advantage  has,  as  we  know,  been  decreasing  in 
proportion  to  the  irresistible  necessity  that  has  forced  each 
state  to  enlarge  its  military  contingent  to  such  a  point  that, 
at  present,  the  great  nations  have  drafted  all  their  able- 
bodied  men  into  their  armies.  Therefore,  all  the  gain  of 
civilisation  in  this  respect  would  vanish,  did  not  the  very 
enormity  of  these  armies  betoken  the  imminence  of  some 
decisive  upheaval  followed  by  some  colossal  unity-and- 
peace-bringing  conquest — unless  our  soldiers'  weapons 
should  become  rusty  from  lack  of  service  and  end  by  drop- 
ping out  of  their  hands. 


CHAPTER  VI 

EXTRA-LOGICAL   INFLUENCES 

WE  have  now  to  study  the  non-logical  causes  of  prefer- 
ence or  aversion  which  are  back  of  different  kinds  of  rival 
imitations  and  which  determine  their  victory  or  defeat. 

Before  entering  upon  these  considerations,  however,  let 
me  say  a  few  words  about  certain  modes  which  an  imitation 
may  assume.  The  modes,  namely,  of  exactness  or  inexact- 
ness, of  consciousness  or  unconsciousness. 

i.  In  the  first  place,  imitation  may  be  either  vague  or 
precise.  Let  us  enquire  whether,  as  the  acts  or  ideas  to  be 
imitated  increase  in  number  and  complexity  in  the  course 
of  civilisation,  imitation  becomes  more  exact  or  more  con- 
fused. We  might  think  that  every  forward  step  in  com- 
plexity brought  with  it  additional  inaccuracy.  Just  the 
opposite,  however,  may  be  observed.  Imitation  is  to  such 
an  extent  the  primal  soul  of  social  life,  that  among  civilised 
men  skill  and  facility  in  imitating  increases  even  faster 
than  the  number  and  complexity  of  inventions.  Besides,  it 
establishes  resemblances  that  become  more  and  more  com- 
plete. In  doing  this,  it  bears  out  its  analogy  to  reproduc- 
tion and  vibration.  Vibrations  of  light  are  much  more 
numerous  and  delicate  than  vibrations  of  sound,  and  yet 
the  light  of  the  stars  is  transmitted  to  us  with  a  marvellous 
accuracy  that  is  never  reached  by  the  latter.  The  equally 
numerous  and  complex  vibrations  of  electricity  are  trans- 
mitted with  incomparable  and  what  would  be  incredible 
fidelity,  but  for  the  striking  proofs  given  to  us  by  the 
telegraph  and  telephone  and  phonograph.  A  noise  is  a 
series  of  unlike  waves,  whereas  a  sound  is  a  series  of  waves 

189 


190  Laws  of  Imitation 

that  are  very  much  alike;  nevertheless  the  latter  with  their 
linked  harmonies  are  more  complex  than  the  former.  Is 
it  true  that  when  heredity  has  to  reproduce  highly  differ- 
entiated organisms  it  produces  less  exact  resemblances  than 
when  it  has  to  reproduce  beings  of  a  lower  order  ?  On  the 
contrary,  the  type  of  a  cat  or  orchid  is  at  least  as  well  con- 
served as  that  of  a  zoophyte  or  mushroom.  The  faintest  va- 
rieties in  human  races  can,  if  they  have  the  time  in  which  to 
become  fixed,  be  perpetuated  with  the  utmost  perfection  by 
heredity. 

From  any  point  of  view  social  life  is  bound  to  lead,  in  its 
prolongation,  to  the  formation  of  etiquette,  that  is,  to  the 
complete  triumph  of  conventionality  over  individual  fancy. 
Language,  religion,  politics,  war,  law,  architecture,  music, 
painting,  poetry,  polite  manners,  etc.,  give  rise  to  a  con- 
ventionality that  is  the  more  complete,  to  an  etiquette  that 
is  the  more  exacting  and  tyrannical,  the  longer  it  has  lasted 
and  the  more  undisturbed  it  has  been  in  its  development. 
Orthography  or  linguistic  purism,  the  etiquette  of  language, 
and  ritual,  the  etiquette  of  religion,  possess  about  an  equal 
degree  of  arbitrary  precision,  when  their  respective  lan- 
guage and  religion  are  alike  very  old  and  very  original.1 

1  Nothing  equals  the  strangeness  of  certain  cults  unless  it  be  their 
persistence.  But  the  same  thing  may  be  said  of  language.  It  is  a  fixed 
caprice,  an  established,  everlasting  disorder,  like  that  of  the  starry 
heavens.  What  is  stranger  or  more  irrational  than  the  use  of  the  word 
cabinet  to  designate  a  group  of  ministers,  or  of  the  word  Porte  as  a 
name  for  the  Ottoman  government  ?  What  logical  relation  exists  between 
the  wor.ds  horse,  equus,  '/TTTTOJ,  and  the  animal  they  represent?  And  yet 
no  law,  however  sensible  and  useful  it  may  be,  is  followed  with  the 
same  degree  of  readiness,  constancy,  and  respect  as  the  custom  of  using 
accepted  words,  however  outlandish  they  may  appear.  In  the  same  way, 
what  resemblance  is  there,  at  bottom,  between  that  chain  of  sacramental 
ceremonies  which  is  called  the  Mass,  and  the  sentiment  of  high  morality 
and  refined  spirituality  of  which  it  is  a  means  of  expression  among 
Catholic  populations?  Mass  is  another  word  in  point;  and  we  know 
the  tenacity  of  this  old  word.  The  difficulty  for  a  whole  people  to  agree 
at  the  same  time  upon  the  choice  of  a  better  term,  or  to  renounce  their 
needs  of  expression,  sacred  or  secular,  is  really  insurmountable ;  for 
such  an  agreement  would  be  possible  only  through  the  spread  of  imita- 
tion, and  not  through  contact.  For  this  reason,  although  religious  per- 
secutions which  are  directed  towards  the  suppression  or  replacement  of 
some  cult  appear  to  be  highly  rational,  they  are,  in  reality,  most  absurd; 


Extra-Logical   Influences  191 

Although  Christianity  has  grown  more  complex,  from 
century  to  century,  it  has  shown  itself  from  its  very  begin- 
ning more  and  more  exacting  in  point  of  regularity,  uni- 
formity, and  orthodoxy.  Although  savage  languages  are 
very  meagre,  they  are,  according  to  Sayce  and  Whitney, 
as  variable  and  as  carelessly  transmitted  as  civilised  lan- 
guages, in  spite  of  their  richness,  are  uniform  and  persist- 
ent. Procedure,  the  etiquette  of  justice,  is  also  very  for- 
mal when  the  law  is  very  old,  however  complicated  it  may 
have  become.  Ceremonial,  the  etiquette  of  worldly  rela- 
tions, is  less  strict  among  nations  whose  polite  society  is 
of  later  origin  than  their  law  or  religion.  The  contrary  is 
true  in  Chinese  society  for  the  opposite  reason.  Prosody, 
the  etiquette  of  poetry,  becomes  more  and  more  despotic 
as  versification  increases  and,  strange  to  say,  as  the  poetic 
imagination  expands.  Red  tape  and  administrative  routine, 
the  etiquette  of  government,  increase  day  by  day  with 
differentiation  in  government.  Architecture  requires  its 
followers  to  become  more  and  more  servile  in  the  repetition 
of  the  consecrated  types  that  are  for  the  time  being  in 
favour.  This  is  true  also  of  music.  Painting  also  requires 
its  servants  to  reproduce  with  more  and  more  photo- 
graphic exactness  the  models  of  nature  or  tradition.  Under 
the  ancient  regime,  the  military  uniform  was  less  general 
and  less  respected  than  it  is  to-day,  and  the  farther  back 
we  go  the  greater  individual  variety  do  we  find  in  the  dress 
of  military  ranks.  According  to  Burckhardt,  at  Florence, 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  everyone  dressed  to  suit  his  fancy  as  if 
at  a  mask-ball.  How  we  should  be  scandalised  to-day  by 
such  license! 

This  need  for  conventionality  is  so  natural  to  social  man 
that  after  it  has  reached  a  certain  degree  of  strength  it 
becomes  conscious  of  itself  and  adopts  violent  and  ex- 
peditious means  for  its  satisfaction.  All  old  civilisations 

about  as  absurd  as  linguistic  persecutions.  The  latter  never  succeed  in 
their  aim  to  substitute  one  language  for  another,  except,  at  times, 
through  the  spontaneous  imitation  of  a  superior,  of  a  conqueror  by  the 
conquered. 


192  Laws  of  Imitation 

have  had  their  masters  of  ceremony,  high  functionaries  who 
are  charged  with  the  perpetuation  of  traditional  rites.4 
,We  find  these  chamberlains  under  different  names  not 
only  in  monarchical  states,  in  Egypt,  China,  in  the  Roman 
Empire,  in  the  Lower  Empire,  in  the  Escurial  of  Philip  II 
and  his  successor,  in  the  Versailles  of  Louis  XIV,  but  in 
republics  as  well,  in  Rome,  where  the  censor  kept  a  strict 
oversight  over  old  usages,  and  even  in  Athens,  where 
religious  life  was  subject  to  the  most  absolute  formal- 
ism. We  ridicule  all  of  this,  overlooking  the  fact  that  our 
smart  tailors  and  dressmakers,  our  big  manufacturers,  and 
even  our  journalists,  bear  exactly  the  same  relation  to 
fashion-imitation  as  these  masters  of  civil  or  religious  cere- 
mony bore  to  custom-imitation  and  that  they  are  likely  to 
take  on  the  same  comic  importance  that  the  latter  did.  The 
former  cut  out  our  clothes,  our  conversations,  our  information, 
our  tastes,  and  our  various  wants  according  to  one  uniform 
pattern  from  which  it  is  improper  to  depart.  Its  sameness 
from  one  end  of  the  continent  to  the  other  passes  for  the 
most  obvious  sign  of  civilisation,  just  as  the  perpetuation 
for  century  upon  century  of  certain  legends,  traditions,  and 
customs  was  once  taken,  and  much  more  wisely,  for  the 
foundation  of  a  people's  grandeur.2 

2.  In  the  second  place,  imitation  may  be  conscious  or 
unconscious,  deliberate  or  spontaneous,  voluntary  or  in- 
voluntary. But  I  do  not  attach  great  importance  to  this 
classification.  Is  it  true  that  as  a  people  becomes  civilised 
its  manner  of  imitating  becomes  more  and  more  voluntary, 
conscious,  and  deliberate?  I  think  the  opposite  is  true. 
Just  as  with  the  individual  unconscious  habits  were  origi- 

1  Some  of  these  rites  are   very  strange.    At  the  moment  when,  on  the 
night  of  the  wedding,  the  marriage  of  the  Emperor  of  China  is  con- 
summated, two  great  personages  are  present  at  the  solemnity,  and  sing 
a  love  duet  in  the  imperial  alcove. 

2  Everything  that   is   true   in    Spencer's    chapter   on    what   he   calls 
ceremonial  government   implicitly  confirms  the  above.     The  writer  errs 
in  thinking,  as  he  seems  to  do,  that  ceremony  is  decreasing,  and  that  its 
sway  is  strongest  in  the  beginnings  of  societies.    But  what  he  takes  for 
primitive  societies  had  already  a  long  past  behind  them  in  which  the 
so-called  rule  of  ceremony  had  already  been  slowly  formed. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  193 

nally  conscious  and  self-determined  acts,  so  in  the  nation 
everything  that  is  done  or  said  by  tradition  or  custom 
began  by  being  a  difficult  and  much-questioned  importa- 
tion. I  should  add,  to  be  sure,  that  many  imitations  are 
from  the  very  beginning  unconscious  and  involuntary. 
This  is  so  of  the  imitation  of  the  accents,  manners,  and 
more  often  of  the  ideals  and  sentiments  peculiar  to  the  en- 
vironment in  which  we  live.  It  is  also  plain  that  imita- 
tion of  the  will  of  others — I  know  no  other  way  of  defining 
spontaneous  obedience — is  necessarily  involuntary.  But 
let  us  observe  that  the  involuntary  and  unconscious  forms 
of  imitation  never  become  voluntary  and  conscious,  where- 
as the  voluntary  and  conscious  forms  are  likely  to  take  on 
the  opposite  characteristics.  Let  us  distinguish,  moreover, 
between  the  consciousness  of  imitating  or  the  will  to  imi- 
tate someone  in  thinking  or  doing  a  certain  thing  and  the 
consciousness  of  conceiving  the  thought  or  the  will  to 
perform  the  act.  Consciousness  or  volition,  in  this  latter 
sense,  is  the  constant  and  universal  fact  which  the  progress 
of  civilisation  neither  augments  nor  diminishes.  In  the 
former  sense,  there  is  nothing  more  variable,  and  civilisation 
does  not  seem  to  encourage  consciousness  or  will  under- 
stood in  this  way.  Certainly  the  savage  in  whose  eyes  the 
ancient  custom  or  religion  of  his  tribe  is  justice  or  truth 
incarnate  is  no  less  conscious  of  imitating  his  ancestors 
and  is  no  less  desirous  of  imitating  them  in  practising  his 
juridical  or  religious  rites,  than  is  the  modern  labourer  or 
even  the  modern  bourgeois  of  imitating  his  neighbor,  or 
employer,  or  editor,  in  repeating  what  he  has  read  in  his 
newspaper  or  in  buying  the  piece  of  furniture  which  he  has 
seen  in  the  parlour  of  his  employer  or  neighbour.  But,  in  fact, 
in  both  cases,  man  is  wrong  in  thinking  that  he  imitates 
because  he  wishes  to.  For  this  very  will  to  imitate  has 
been  handed  down  through  imitation.  Before  imitating 
the  act  of  another  we  begin  by  feeling  the  need  from  which 
this  act  proceeds,  and  we  feel  it  precisely  as  we  do  only 
because  it  has  been  suggested  to  us. 

After  these  remarks  on  the  intrinsic  characteristics  of 


194  Laws  of  Imitation 

imitations,  let  us  turn  our  attention  to  the  inequalities  that 
they  present  in  their  career  by  reason  of  their  content 
(according  as  the  content  is  the  sign  or  the  thing  signified, 
an  inward  or  an  outward  model),  or  by  reason  of  the  alleged 
superiority  or  inferiority  of  the  persons  or  classes  or  even 
places  from  which  they  issue  or  of  the  past  or  present  epochs 
in  which  they  originate.  In  this  chapter  I  propose  to  show 
that,  the  logical  or  teleological  values  being  by  hypothesis 
equal,  (i)  the  subjective  model  will  be  imitated  before  the 
objective,1  and  (2)  the  example  of  persons  or  classes  as  well 
as  of  localities  that  are  thought  superior  will  prevail  over 
the  example  of  inferior  persons  or  classes  or  localities.  In 
the  following  chapters  I  shall  show  that  a  like  presumption 
of  superiority  attaches  (3)  at  times  to  the  present,  at  times 
to  the  past,  and  is  a  potent  factor  and  one  of  considerable 
historic  significance  in  favour  either  of  the  examples  of  our 
fathers,  or  of  those  of  our  contemporaries. 

I.  Imitation  from  Within  to  Without 

This  would  be  the  moment,  if  I  did  not  shrink  from  so 
difficult  a  task,  to  exploit  an  entirely  unexplored  field  and 
compare  the  different  functions  of  organic  or  psychological 
life  from  the  point  of  view  of  their  more  or  less  pronounced 
tendencies,  in  the  average  case,  to  transmit  themselves 
through  imitation.  This  relative  transmissibility  varies 
greatly  from  one  period  or  nation  to  another.  It  will  be 
impossible  to  measure  it  with  any  precision  until  the  day 
when  Statistics  shall  have  redeemed  all  its  promises.  A 
few  words,  then,  on  this  subject  must  suffice. 

Is  not  thirst  more  contagious  through  imitation  than 
hunger?  I  think  it  is.  This  may  explain  the  rapid  strides 
of  alcoholism.  Although  gourmandism  has  also  increased, 
as  we  may  infer  from  the  more  varied  and  abundant  diet  of 

1  This  advance  from  within  to  without,  from  the  thing  signified  to 
the  sign,  really  answers  an  innate  need  of  logic,  and,  therefore,  the  con- 
siderations based  upon  it  might  have  found  a  place,  up  to  a  certain 
point,  in  the  preceding  chapter. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  195 

the  middle  classes,  of  the  labourer,  and  of  the  peasant,  its 
advance  has  certainly  been  slower.  The  same  drinks 
may  be  in  vogue  over  a  great  stretch  of  country  (tea  in  one 
place,  wine  in  another,  beer  here,  mate  there,  etc. ) ,  whereas 
the  greatest  diversity  may  still  prevail  in  local  viands. 
Is  thirst  more  or  less  contagious  than  sexual  desires?  I 
think  less  so.  Debauchery  is  the  first  vice  to  develop,  even 
before  alcoholism,  in  large  gatherings  of  men  and.  women 
or  in  newly  populated  cities.  Movements  of  the  leg,  and 
especially  movements  of  the  upper  part  of  the  body,  are  still 
more  easily  communicated.  The  impetus  of  marching  to- 
gether is  one  of  the  great  military  forces.  The  soldier's 
tendency  to  keep  step  and  march  with  his  fellows  is  innate 
before  it  is  obligatory.  It  has  been  proved  through  careful 
tests  that  everybody  in  the  same  village  walks  on  an  average 
at  the  same  rate  of  speed.  As  for  characteristic  manners 
and  gestures,  they  are  much  more  readily  transmitted  than 
peculiarities  of  gait  among  people  who  are  accustomed  to 
live  together.  This  is  partly  the  reason  why  in  modern 
hospitals  hysterical  convulsions  readily  take  on  the  character 
of  an  epidemic,  like  the  diabolical  possessions  in  the  con- 
vents of  the  past.  The  vocal  function,  like  all  functions  of 
intercourse,  is  eminently  imitative,  particularly  on  its  intel- 
lectual side,  in  diction  and  pronuncation,  not  in  the  timbre 
of  the  voice.1  Accent  is  also  transmitted.  But  this  hap- 
pens gradually  and  during  youth.  Every  city  retains  a 
characteristic  accent  long  after  its  food  and  dress  have 
become  like  those  of  other  cities.  Yawning,  I  mean  the 
yawn  of  boredom,  whch  has  a  mental  cause,  is  much  more 
contagious  than  sneezing  or  coughing. 

The  functions  of  the  higher  senses  are  more  transmis- 
sible through  imitation  than  those  of  the  lower.  We  are 
much  more  likely  to  copy  someone  who  is  looking  at  or 
listening  to  something  than  someone  who  is  smelling  a 
flower  or  tasting  a  dish.  This  is  the  reason  why  in  large 

1  Children  take  the  most  lively  pleasure  in  reproducing  all  the 
striking  sounds,  even  more  than  in  copying  the  gestures,  in  their 
environment. 


196  Laws  of  Imitation 

cities  a  gathering  is  so  soon  formed  around  a  lounging- 
place.  We  plunge  into  the  waiting  line  behind  the  doors 
of  a  theatre  much  more  eagerly  than  into  the  restaurant 
behind  whose  window  panes  we  see  its  patrons  enjoying 
their  dinner. 

All  passions  and  needs  for  luxury  are  more  contagious 
than  simple  appetites  and  primitive  needs.  But  shall  we 
say,  as  to  passions,  that  admiration,  confidence,  love,  and 
resignation  are  superior  in  this  respect  to  contempt,  dis- 
trust, hatred,  and  envy?  In  general,  yes,  otherwise  society 
would  not  endure.1  For  the  same  reason,  and  in  spite  of 
frequent  epidemics  of  panic,  hope  is  certainly  more  catch- 
ing than  terror.  Indolence  is  likewise  more  so  than  am- 
bition and  avarice,  the  spirit  of  saving  than  avidity.  And 
this  is  very  fortunate  for  the  peace  of  society.  Is  courage 
more  catching  than  cowardice?  I  am  much  less  certain  of 
this.  Here  curiosity  deserves  a  special,  if  not  the  chief, 
place  of  honour.  All  those  throngs  of  people  which  end  in 
bringing  on  revolutions  in  religion,  government;  art,  and 
industry  begin  to  collect  under  the  sway  of  this  sentiment. 
iWhen  a  person  is  seen  to  be  curious  about  what  once  may 
have  appeared  to  be  the  merest  trifle,  we  immediately 
desire  to  know  about  it.  This  movement  spreads  very 
quickly,  and  the  intensity  of  everybody's  desire  increases 
in  proportion  to  its  spread,  through  the  effect  of  mutual 
reaction.  Whenever  any  novelty  whatsoever,  a  sermon,  a 
political  platform,  a  philosophic  idea,  a  commercial  article, 
a  poem,  a  novel,  a  drama,  or  an  opera,  appears  in  some 
notable  place,  i.  c.,  in  a  capital  city,  it  is  only  necessary  for 
the  attention  of  ten  persons  to  become  ostensibly  fixed 
upon  this  thing  in  order  that  one  hundred,  one  thousand,  or 
ten  thousand  persons  may  quickly  take  an  interest  in  it 
and  enthuse  about  it.  At  times,  this  phenomenon  takes  on 
the  character  of  hysteria.  In  the  fifteenth  century  when 
Bohm,  the  German  piper,  began  to  preach  his  evangel  of 

1  At  any  rate,  during  the  ascendency  of  a  people.  It  is  only  in  its 
decline  that  it  sees  judgments  of  disparagement  spread  more  rapidly 
than  judgments  of  admiration. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  197 

fraternal  equality  and  community  of  goods,  an  epidem- 
ical exodus  set  in.  "  The  journeymen  hastened  from 
their  workshops,  the  farm  maids  ran  with  their  sickles  in 
their  hands,"  reports  a  chronicler,  cited  by  Jansenn,  and  in 
a  few  hours  more  than  thirty  thousand  men  had  assembled 
in  a  foodless  desert.  Once  general  curiosity  has  been  ex- 
cited, the  mob  is  irresistibly  predisposed  tQ  be  carried 
away  by  all  the  different  kinds  of  ideas  and  desires  which 
the  preacher,  the  orator,  the  dramatist,  and  the  novelist  of 
the  hour  may  seek  to  popularise. 

M.  Ribot  has  pointed  out  that  the  memory  of  senti- 
ments is  much  more  persistent  than  that  of  ideas.  I  should 
say  the  like  of  the  imitation  of  sentiments  compared  with 
the  imitation  (i.  e.,  the  spread)  of  ideas.  Certainly  morals 
and  religious  and  moral  sentiments  which  consist  of  recip- 
rocal impregnations  of  affective  states  have  a  greater  tenac- 
ity than  opinions  or  even  principles. 

But  now  I  have  sufficiently  glanced  over  a  group  of  ideas 
that  I  do  not  wish  to  analyse  more  closely.  Let  us  turn  to 
a  truth  of  more  general  import. 

All  imitations  in  which  logic  has  no  place  fall  into  two 
great  categories,  namely,  credulity  and  docility,  imitation 
of  belief  and  imitation  of  desires.  It  may  see  strange  to  call 
passive  adherence  to  the  idea  of  another,  imitation;  but  if, 
as  I  have  said,  it  matters  little  whether  the  reflection  of  one 
brain  upon  another  be  active  or  passive  in  character,  the 
extension  which  I  give  to  the  usual  meaning  of  this  word  is 
highly  legitimate.  If  we  say  that  the  scholar  imitates  his 
master  when  he  repeats  his  spoken  words,  why  should  we 
not  say  that  the  former  has  already  imitated  the  latter  as 
soon  as  he  has  adopted  in  thought  the  idea  which  he  after- 
wards expresses  in  speech?  It  may  also  surprise  the  reader 
to  find  that  I  consider  obedience  a  kind  of  imitation;  but 
this  assimilation,  which  can,  at  any  rate,  be  easily  justified, 
is  necessary,  and  it  alone  permits  the  full  significance  of  the 
phenomenon  of  imitation  to  be  recognised.  When  one 
person  copies  another,  when  one  class  begins  to  pattern 
its  dress,  its  furniture,  and  its  amusements  after  those  of 


198  Laws  of  Imitation 

another,  it  means  that  it  has  already  borrowed  from,  the 
latter  the  wants  and  sentiments  of  which  these  methods 
of  life  are  the  outward  manifestations.  Consequently  it 
can  and  must  have  borrowed  the  latter's  volitions,  that  is, 
have  willed  in  accordance  with  its  will.1 

Is  it  possible  to  deny  that  volition,  together  with  emotion 
and  conviction,  is  the  most  contagious  of  psychological 
states?  An  energetic  and  authoritive  man  wields  an  ir- 
resistible power  over  feeble  natures.  He  gives  them  the 
direction  which  they  lack.  Obedience  to  him  is  not  a  duty, 
but  a  need.  That  is  the  way  every  social  tie  begins.  Obe- 
dience, in  short,  is  the  sister  of  faith.  People  obey  for  the 
same  reason  that  they  believe;  and  just  as  their  faith  is  the 
radiation  of  that  of  some  apostle,  so  their  activity  is  merely 
the  outgoing  of  some  master  will.  Whatever  the  master 
wills  or  has  willed,  they  will;  whatever  the  apostle  believes 
or  has  believed,  they  believe.  And  it  is  because  of  this 
that  whatever  the  master  or  apostle  subsequently  does  or 
says,  they,  in  turn,  do  or  say  or  are  inclined  to  do  or  say. 
Those,  persons  and  classes,  in  fact,  whom  one  is  most 
inclined  to  imitate,  are  those  whom  one  is  most  docile  in 
obeying.  The  common  people  have  always  been  inclined 
to  copy  kings  and  courts  and  upper  classes  according  to 
the  measure  in  which  they  have  submitted  to  their  rule. 
During  the  years  preceding  the  French  Revolution,  Paris 
no  longer  copied  court  fashions,  and  no  longer  applauded 
the  plays  in  favour  at  Versailles,  because  the  spirit  of  insub- 
ordination had  already  made  rapid  strides.  In  all  periods, 

1  Moreover,  commands  began  by  being  set  examples.  I  have  indi- 
cated the  steps  in  the  gradual  transformation  of  example  into  command 
in  the  preface  of  my  Logique  sociale,  p.  vii.  "  In  a  band  of  monkeys, 
horses,  dogs,  or  even  bees  or  ants,  the  leader  sets  an  example  of  the  act 
which  he  mentally  orders  and  the  rest  of  the  band  imitate  him.  Grad- 
ually the  imperative  intention  is  separated  from  the  initiative  of  the  act 
which  is  commanded  and  with  which  it  was  at  first  merged.  Finally 
the  leader  merely  outlines  the  act:  later  on,  he  reduces  it  to  a  gesture 
and  then  to  some  sign,  a  cry,  a  look,  an  attitude,  and,  finally,  to  an 
articulate  sound.  But  the  word  always  calls  up  the  image  of  the  act  to 
be  performed, — a  familiar  act,  of  course,  for  a  stroke  of  genius  cannot 
be  described  in  advance, — and  this  image  is  equivalent  to  the  primitive 
example  set  by  the  leader." 


Extra-Logical  Influences  199 

the  ruling  classes  have  been  or  have  begun  by  being  the 
model  classes.  In  the  cradle  of  society,  in  the  family,  this 
close  correlation  between  imitation,  strictly  speaking,  and 
obedience  and  credulity  is  clearly  shown.  The  father  is, 
especially  at  first,  the  infallible  oracle  and  sovereign  ruler 
of  his  child;  and  for  this  reason  he  is  his  child's  highest 
model.1 

Imitation, then,  contrary  to  what  we  might  infer  from  cer- 
tain appearances,  proceeds  from  the  inner  to  the  outer  man. 
It  seems  at  first  sight  as  if  a  people  or  a  class  began  to  imitate 
another  by  copying  its  luxury  and  its  fine  arts  before  it  be- 
came possessed  of  its  tastes  and  literature,  of  its  aims  and 
ideas,  in  a  word,  of  its  spirit.  Precisely  the  contrary,  how- 
ever, occurs.  In  the  sixteenth  century  fashions  in  dress 
came  into  France  from  Spain.2  This  was  because  Spanish 
literature  had  already  been  imposed  upon  us  at  the  time 
of  Spain's  pre-eminence.  In  the  seventeenth  century, 
when  the  preponderance  of  France  was  established,  French 
literature  ruled  over  Europe,  and  subsequently  French  arts 
and  French  fashions  made  the  tour  of  the  world.  When 
Italy,  overcome  and  downtrodden  as  she  was,  invaded  us 
in  the  fifteenth  century,  with  her  arts  and  fashions,  but,  first 
of  all,  with  her  marvellous  poetry,  it  was  because  the  prestige 
of  her  higher  civilisation  and  of  the  Roman  Empire  that 
she  had  unearthed  and  transfigured  had  subjugated  her 
conquerors.  Besides,  the  consciences  of  Frenchmen  were 
Italianised  long  before  their  houses  or  dress  or  furniture 

1  This  must  be  so,  let  us  observe,  if  the  action  at  a  distance  of  one 
brain  upon  another,  which  I  call  imitation,  is  to  be  classed  with  hypnotic 
suggestion,  in  so  far,  at  least,  as  a  normal  and  continuous  phenomenon 
may  be  compared  with  a  rare  anomaly  which  it  reproduces  on  a  larger 
but  much  less  intense  scale.    We  know  how  credulous  and  docile  the 
hypnotic  subject  becomes.    We  know  what  a  good  comedian  he  is.    We 
know,  too,  how  deeply  the  personality  which  is  suggested  to  him  be- 
comes incarnated  in  him.    We  know  that  at  first  it  penetrates,  or  appears 
to  penetrate  into  his  very  heart  and  character  before  it  expresses  itself 
in  his  posture  or  gesture  or  speech.    His  dominant  characteristics  are 
absolute  credulity  and  docility. 

2  Bodin  writes  that  "  in  the  matter  of  dress  he  will  always  be  rated 
dull  and  loutish  who  does  not  apparel  himself  in  the  prevailing  fashion 
which  has  come  to  us  from  Spain  with  the  farthingale." 


2oo  Laws  of  Imitation 

through  their  habit  of  submission  to  the  transalpine 
Papacy. 

Did  these  very  Italians  who  fell  to  aping  their  own  Greco- 
Roman  restorations  begin  by  reflecting  the  externals  of 
the  ancient  world,  its  statues,  its  frescoes,  its  Ciceronian 
periods,  in  order  to  become  gradually  filled  by  its  spirit? 
On  the  contrary,  it  was  to  their  hearts  that  their  tran- 
splendent model  made  its  first  appeal.  This  neo-paganism 
was  the  conversion  of  a  whole  community,  first  its  scholars 
and  then  its  artists  (this  order  is  irreversible),  to  a  dead 
religion;  and  whenever  a  new  religion,  it  matters  not 
whether  it  be  living  or  dead,  that  is  made  fascinating  by 
some  compelling  apostle,  takes  hold  of  a  man,  it  is  first 
believed  in  and  then  practised.  It  does  not  begin  with 
mummeries.  Mummeries  do  not  lead  to  virtues  and  con- 
victions. Far  from  that,  it  is  the  neophyte,  above  all,  who 
is  impressed  by  the  soul  of  a  religion  independent  of  its 
external  form,  and  formalism  of  worship  does  not  become 
empty  and  meaningless  until  much  later,  when  religion  has 
lost  its  place  in  people's  hearts  although  it  may  still  survive 
in  their  usages.  Thus  the  neophyte  of  the  early  Renais- 
sance continues  in  his  feudal  or  Christian  habits  of  life,  but 
in  faith  he  is  already  pagan,  as  his  excess  of  sensuality  and 
his  overruling  passion  for  glory  go  to  prove.  It  is  only  at 
a  later  period  that  he  becomes  a  pagan  in  morals  and  man- 
ners, first  in  morals  and  then  in  manners.  The  same  thing 
happened,  if  we  go  farther  back,  in  the  case  of  the  bar- 
barians of  the  fifth  or  sixth  century,  in  the  case  of  a 
Clovis  for  example,  or  a  Chilperic.  They  forced  them- 
selves to  bow  down  to  the  customs  of  Rome  and  decorated 
themselves  with  the  consular  insignia.  But  before  becoming 
Latinised  in  that  clumsy,  superficial  sense  they  had  experi- 
enced a  much  more  profound  Latinisation  in  being  con- 
verted to  Christianity,  for  at  that  date  the  Roman  civilisa- 
tion which  fascinated  them  survived  only  in  Christianity. 

Let  us  suppose  that  two  peoples  of  different  religions 
come  into  contact,  pagans  with  Christians,  Christians  with 
Moslems,  Buddhists  with  Confucians,  etc.  Each  bor- 


Extra-Logical  Influences  201 

rows  from  the  other  certain  new  rites  to  illustrate  its  own 
peculiar  dogmas,  and,  at  the  same  time,  while  each  con- 
tinues to  practise  its  ancient  rites  it  receives  new  dogmas 
which  are  more  or  less  contradictory  to  the  old.  Now  do 
rites  spread  more  or  less  quickly  than  dogmas?  The  per- 
sistence of  old  rites  in  new  religions  shows  that  they  spread 
less  quickly.  In  the  same  way  two  peoples  may  borrow 
both  each  other's  ideas  and  forms  of  speech,  but  they  will 
borrow  the  former  before  the  latter.  If  they  borrow  each 
other's  legal  procedure  and  ceremonial  together  with  each 
other's  principles  of  justice,  the  exchange  of  the  latter  will 
be  much  more  rapid  than  that  of  the  former.  And  so  we 
have  at  Rome,  in  England,  in  France,  etc.,  the  persistence  of 
legal  form  long  after  legal  reform. 

In  this  way  imitation  passes  on  from  one  people  to  an- 
other, as  well  as  from  one  class  to  another  within  the  same 
people.  Do  we  ever  see  one  class  which  is  in  contact  with, 
but  which  has  never,  hypothetically,  been  subject  to  the 
control  of,  another  determine  to  copy  its  accent,  its 
dress,  its  furniture,  and  its  buildings,  and  end  by  em- 
bracing its  principles  and  beliefs?  This  would  invert  the 
universal  and  necessary  order  of  things.  The  strongest 
proof,  indeed,  that  imitation  spreads  from  within  to  without 
is  to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  in  the  relations  between  dif- 
ferent classes,  envy  never  precedes  obedience  and  trust, 
but  is  always,  on  the  contrary,  the  sign  and  the  result  of  a 
previous  state  of  obedience  and  trust.  Blind  and  docile 
devotion  to  the  Roman  patricians,  to  the  Athenian  eupatri- 
des,  or  to  the  French  nobility  of  the  old  regime  preceded 
the  envy.  i.  e.,  the  desire  to  imitate  them  externally,  which 
they  came  to  inspire.  Envy  is  the  symptom  of  a  social 
transformation  which,  in  bringing  classes  together  and 
in  lessening  the  inequality  of  their  resources,  renders) 
possible  not  only  the  transmission,  as  before,  of  their 
thoughts  and  aims,  not  only  patriotic  or  religious  com- 
munion and  participation  in  the  same  worship,  but  the 
radiation  of  their  luxury  and  well-being  as  well.  Obedi- 
ence, the  cause,  engenders  envy,  the  effect.  Consequently, 


2O2  Laws  of  Imitation 

when,  for  example,  the  ancient  plebeians  or  the  middle  class 
Guelphs  in  the  Italian  cities  of  the  Middle  Ages,  came  into 
power,  their  manner  of  using  it  was  an  evidence  and  a  con- 
tinuation of  their  preceding  bondage,  since  the  oppressive 
laws  which  they  enacted  against  the  sometime  reigning 
aristocracies  were  suggested  by  the  need  which  they  felt 
to  copy  their  ancient  masters. 

It  will  be  observed  that  obedience  and  trust,  the  subjec- 
tive imitation  of  a  recognised  superior,  is  prompted  by  a 
devotion  and,  so  to  speak,  loving  admiration,  just  as  the  ob- 
jective imitation  of  a  questioned  or  disowned  superior  results 
from  envious  disparagement;  and  it  is  clear  that  com- 
munities pass  from  love  to  covert  envy  or  from  admiration 
to  open  contempt  in  respect  to  their  old  masters,  but  that 
they  never  pass  back,  as  far  as  the  latter  are  concerned,  at 
any  rate,  from  envy  to  love  or  from  contempt  to  admira- 
tion. To  satisfy  their  persistent  need  of  loving  and  admir- 
ing, they  must  continue  to  raise  up  new  idols  for  themselves, 
from  time  to  time,  only  to  shatter  them  later  on.1 

It  is  a  great  mistake  to  say  that  populations  are  controlled 
by  fear  alone.  On  the  contrary,  everything  points  to  the  fact 
that  in  the  beginnings  of  all  great  civilisations  or,  rather,  of 
all  religious  or  political  institutions  whatsoever,  modern 
ones  included,  there  have  been  unheard-of  expenditures  of 
love  and  of  unsatisfied  love  at  that.  This  fact  explains  every- 
thing; without  it,  nothing  is  explained.  If  the  king-god 
whom  Spencer  has  so  strongly  portrayed  had  not  been 
loved  as  well  as  feared,  he  w6uld  have  been  straightway 
killed.  And,  to  go  back  to  the  cradle  of  societies,  are  we 

1  After  a  certain  point,  the  more  superficial  social  inequalities  become, 
the  harder  they  are  for  inferiors  to  endure.  The  cause  of  this  is 
that  after  they  have  been  softened  down  beyond  a  certain  point,  they 
fail  to  produce  either  admiration  or  credulity  or  obedience,  all  of  which 
dispositions  make  for  social  strength,  and  they,  therefore,  lose  their 
raison  d'etre.  Then  they  inspire  envy,  and  envy  helps  to  make  them 
disappear.  The  demands  of  utility  are  analogous,  in  this  case,  to  those 
of  beauty.  The  beautiful  rules  out  any  compromise  between  an  ellipse 
and  a  circle  or  between  a  parallelogram  and  a  square.  As  soon  as  the 
disproportion  between  the  two  axes  of  the  ellipse  or  between  the  length 
and  breadth  of  the  parallelogram  ceases  to  be  sufficiently  pronounced, 


Extra-Logical  Influences  203 

to  believe  that  the  patriarch  of  antiquity,  the  first  of  the 
king-gods,  owed  his  absolute  authority  over  his  children 
and  his  slaves  exclusively  to  their  terror?  His  children, 
if  not  his  slaves,  certainly  loved  him.  They  probably  loved 
him  much  more  than  he  himself  loved  them;  for  here,  as 
elsewhere,  the  unilateral  seems  to  have  preceded  the  re- 
ciprocal  tie.  Ancient  documents  lead  us  to  think  that 
there  was  far  less  paternal  tenderness  on  the  part  of  the 
fathers  of  antiquity  than  on  the  part  of  those  of  the  present 
day.  I  am  not  speaking  of  mothers,  for  the  causes  of  their 
affection  are  vital  much  more  than  social,  and  it  is  to  this 
fact  that  it  owes  its  relative  depth  and  steadfastness. 
Filial  love  itself,  then,  must  have  begun  as  an  almost  one- 
sided unsatisfied  affection.  We  may  picture  the  head  of 
the  primitive  family  as  king,  judge,  priest,  and  teacher  all 
in  one.  Like  a  little  Louis  XIV,  he  failed  to  recognise 
that  his  subjects  had  any  claims  upon  him  and  in  perfect 
egotism  offered  himself  to  their  adoration.  In  view  of  his 
own  glorification  he  acknowledged,  to  be  sure,  the  duty  of 
protecting  them.  And  they  were  as  grateful  to  him,  in 
return,  as  if  he  had  bestowed  a  favour  upon  them.  Hence 
his  apotheosis.  It  was  necessary  for  the  family-cult  and 
for  the  perpetuation  of  the  family,  the  basis  of  city  and 
civilisation. 

The  Bible  and  all  ancient  legislation  testify  to  the  extent 
to  which  the  patriarch  was  believed  in  and  obeyed.  His 
thought  was  divined  and  his  will  willed  almost  without  a 
word,  and  it  was  because  of  this  that  his  children  had  so 
keen  an  inclination  to  follow  his  example  in  all  things,  to 
reproduce  his  accent,  his  language,  his  gestures,  and  his 
manners.  They  would  never  have  been  led  to  believe  in 

our  aesthetic  sense  desires  its  suppression  altogether,  and  the  smaller  the 
disproportion,  the  stronger  our  wish  or  desire.  Now  as  soon  as  an  ap- 
proximate equality  is  effected  between  the  different  classes  of  a  society, 
envy  itself,  having  accomplished  its  work  of  assimilation,  tends  to  dis- 
appear ;  and  then  its  work  is  endangered  by  this  very  extreme.  The 
need  of  individual  divergence,  of  dissimilation,  or,  as  we  say,  of  liberty, 
grows  out  of  the  equality  which  is  born  of  resemblance ;  and  society 
would  return  to  the  disintegration  of  savagery,  providing  new  causes  of 
inequality  did  not  arise.  But  arise  they  always  do. 


204  Laws  of  Imitation 

and  obey  him  by  futilely  mimicking  the  outside  man  had 
they  not  first  understood  him  by  means  of  their  faith  and 
docility.  The  formation  of  a  social  tie  by  the  first  method 
was  impossible.  But  let  us  go  back  still  further,  to  that  pre- 
historic dawn  when  the  art  of  speech  was  unknown.  At  that 
time  how  was  the  secret  content  of  the  mind,  its  desires  and 
ideas,  transfused  from  one  brain  to  another?  That  it  was, 
in  fact,  effected  we  may  infer  from  what  happens  in  the 
societies  of  animals  who  seem  to  understand  one  another 
almost  without  signs,  as  if  through  a  kind  of  psychological 
electrisation  by  suggestion.  It  must  be  admitted  that  in 
that  age  inter-cerebral  action  at  a  distance  may  have  taken 
place  with  perhaps  remarkable  intensity,  with  an  intensity 
which  has  diminished  from  that  time  on.  Hypnotic  sugges- 
tion can  give  us  some  vague  idea  of  this  in  so  far  as  a  morbid 
phenomenon  can  resemble  a  normal  one.  This  action  is 
the  elementary  and  fundamental  problem  which  sociological 
psychology  (which  begins  where  physiological  psychology 
leaves  off)  should  undertake  to  solve. 

The  invention  of  language  wonderfully  facilitated,  but 
did  not  originate,  the  inoculation  of  ideas  and  desires  of 
one  mind  by  another  and  consequently  the  progress  of  imi- 
tation ab  interioribus  ad  exteriora.  For  had  not  this  prog- 
'ress  already  existed,  the  birth  of  language  would  be  in- 
conceivable. It  is  not  difficult  to  understand  how  the  first 
inventor  of  speech  set  to  associating  in  his  own  mind  a 
given  thought  and  a  given  sound  (perfected  by  gesture), 
but  it  is  difficult  to  understand  how  he  was  able  to  suggest 
this  relation  to  another  by  merely  making  him  hear  the 
given  sound.  If  the  listener  merely  repeated  this  sound 
like  a  parrot,  without  attaching  to  it  the  required  meaning, 
it  is  impossible  to  see  how  this  superficial  and  mechanical 
re-echoing  could  have  led  him  to  understand  the  meaning 
of  the  strange  speaker  or  carried  him  over  from  the  sound 
to  the  word.  It  must  then  be  admitted  that  the  sense  was 
transmitted  with  the  sound,  that  it  reflected  the  sound. 
And  whoever  is  acquainted  with  the  feats  of  hypnotism, 
with  the  miracles  of  suggestion,  that  have  been  popularised 


Extra-Logical  Influences  205 

to  so  great  an  extent  of  late,  should  certainly  not  be  reluc- 
tant to  admit  this  postulate. 

Moreover,  observation  of  two-  or  three-year-old  children 
who  are  beginning  to  talk  adds  great  weight  to  this  hy- 
pothesis. It  is  easily  seen  that  they  understand  what  is 
said  to  them  long  before  they  are  themselves  able  to  say 
the  same  things.  How  could  this  be  possible  unless  they 
had  already  imitated  older  persons  ab  interioribus  ad  ex- 
terior a?  Now,  this  point  admitted,  the  establishment  of 
language,  marvellous  as  it  seems,  presents  no  further  dif- 
ficulties. Speech  was  not,  in  the  beginning  of  history, 
what  it  has  since  become,  namely,  an  interchange  of  knowl- 
edge and  opinion.  In  accordance  with  the  law  which  I 
have  frequently  formulated  that  the  unilateral  precedes  the 
reciprocal  in  and  for  everything,  speech  must  have  been  at 
first  a  purely  one-sided  lesson  or  command  of  a  father  to 
his  children,  a  prayer  to  an  unresponsive  deity,  i.  e.,  a  kind 
of  sacerdotal  and  monarchical  function,  eminently  authori- 
tative and  accompanied  by  some  suggested  hallucination 
or  action,  a  sacrament,  an  august  monopoly.  The  ruler, 
like  the  modern  schoolmaster,  alone  had  the  right  to 
speak  aloud  in  his  domain.  Besides,  only  a  chosen  few, 
objects  of  admiration  and,  then,  of  envy,  knew  how  to 
speak. 

Later  the  right  of  writing  was  also  monopolised  by  the 
upper  classes,  and  this  fact  explains  the  prestige  that  writing, 
according  to  Sacred  Scripture,  still  held,  in  the  past,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  unlettered.  If  speech  has  wholly  lost  this  same 
prestige,  it  is  undoubtedly  because  it  is  much  more  ancient. 
That  it  once  possessed  it  is  proved  by  the  virtue  that  attached . 
to  so-called  sacramental  expressions  in  old  legal  procedures, 
as  well  as  by  the  magical  power  attributed  to  Prayer  in 
its  apotheosis  in  the  Vedas  of  the  Aryans  and  to  the  Word, 
the  Logos,  by  the  Byzantines  and  Christians.  In  another 
chapter  I  will  show  that  the  needs  of  consumption  have 
in  every  order  of  facts  preceded  the  needs  of  production 
and  that  this  important  phenomenon  is  related  to  the  prog- 
ress of  imitation  from  within  to  without.  If  this  is  so, 


206  Laws  of  Imitation 

the  need  of  listening  must  have  preceded  that  of  speak- 
ing. 

When  the  action  at  a  distance  of  a  dominant  mind  over 
one  that  is  dominated  has  once  been  facilitated  and  regulated 
by  the  habit  of  verbal  communication  it  acquires  an  irresist- 
ible force.  We  can  get  some  idea  of  what  language  was 
originally  as  an  instrument  of  government  from  the  power 
that  it  exerts  to-day  in  its  most  recent  form,  the  daily  press, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  latter  has  lost  part  of  its  power 
through  its  expansion  and  self-combativeness.  It  is  due  to 
speech  that  imitation  in  the  human  world  has  accentuated 
its  leading  characteristic  of  first  attaching  itself  to  the  most 
intrinsic  thing  in  its  living  model  and  of  reproducing  with 
incredible  precision  the  hidden  side,  the  thoughts  and  aims, 
before  it  seizes  upon  and  reflects  with  less  exactness  the 
outward  gestures,  attitudes,  and  movements  of  its  model. 
The  opposite  occurs  among  animals,  where  imitation  is  ef- 
fected in  a  pretty  inexact  manner,  and  only  in  the  reproduc- 
tion of  songs  and  cries  and  muscular  acts  and  where  the 
transmission  of  nervous  phenomena,  of  ideas  and  desires, 
is  always  vague.  Because  of  this  animal  societies  stand 
still;  for  although  some  ingenious  idea  might  gleam 
through  the  brain  of  a  crow  or  bison,  it  would,  according  to 
hypothesis,  die  with  him  and  be  necessarily  lost  to  the  com- 
munity. With  animals,  it  is  primarily  and  pre-eminently 
muscle  which  imitates  muscle;  with  us,  it  is  primarily  and 
pre-eminently  nerve  which  imitates  nerve  and  brain  which 
imitates  brain.  This  is  the  chief  contrast  through  which 
we  may  explain  the  superiority  of  human  societies.  In 
them  no  good  idea  is  lost,  and  every  exceptional  thinker 
lives  on  in  the  posterity  which  he  raises  up  to  his  own  level. 
Good  ideas  may  have  been  for  a  long  time  only  the  visions 
of  a  madman  or  the  caprices  of  a  despot.  It  matters  not, 
for  in  passing  from  the  leader  to  the  multitude  they  at  least 
produce  the  immense  and  fundamental  benefit  of  that  re- 
ligious or  political  unanimity  which  alone  makes  collective 
discipline  and  military  action  possible,  just  as,  in  the  fu- 
ture, when  true  ideas  and  useful  applications  shall  have 


Extra-Logical  Influences  207 

come  to  light,  general  participation  in  the  same  science  and 
in  the  same  morality  will  be  an  indispensable  factor  in  any 
great  florescence  of  art  or  industry. 

Let  us  note  in  relation  to  the  arts  that  their  evolution 
does  not  proceed,  as  Spencer  contends,  from  the  more  ob- 
jective to  the  more  subjective,  from  architecture  through 
sculpture  and  drawing  to  music  and  poetry.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  always  opens  with  some  great  book  or  epic  or 
poetical  work  of  very  remarkable  relative  perfection.  The 
Iliad,  the  Bible,  Dante,  etc.,  are  the  high  sources  from  which 
all  the  fine  arts  are  fated  to  flow. 

This  progress  from  within  to  without,  if  we  try  to  ex- 
press it  more  precisely,  means  two  things:  (i)  That  imi- 
tation of  ideas  precedes  the  imitation  of  their  expression. 
(2)  That  imitation  of  ends  precedes  imitation  of  means. 
Ends  or  ideas  are  the  inner  things,  means  or  expressions, 
the  outer.  Of  course,  we  are  led  to  copy  from  others 
everything  which  seems  to  us  a  new  means  for  attaining 
our  old  ends,  or  satisfying  our  old  wants,  or  a  new  ex- 
pression for  our  old  ideas;  and  we  do  this  at  the  same  time 
that  we  begin  to  adopt  innovations  which  awaken  new 
ideas  and  new  ends  in  us.  Only  these  new  ends,  these 
needs  for  novel  kinds  of  consumption,  take  hold  of  us  and 
propagate  themselves  in  us  much  more  readily  and  rapidly 
than  the  aforesaid  means  or  expressions.1 

A  nation  which  is  becoming  civilised  and  whose  wants  are 
multiplying  consumes  much  more  than  it  is  able  or  than  it 
desires  to  produce.  That  amounts  to  saying,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  aesthetics,  that  the  diffusion  of  sentiments  antici- 
pates that  of  talents.  Sentiments  are  habits  of  judgment 
and  desire  which  have  become  very  alert  and  almost  un- 

1 1  do  not  mean  to  deny  that  the  outside  of  the  model  is  sometimes 
imitated  to  the  exclusion  of  the  inside.  But  when  we  begin  in  this  way, 
as  women  and  children  often  do  (less  often,  however,  than  one  might 
think),  with  outward  imitation,  we  stop  short  there;  whereas,  if  we  begin 
with  inward  imitation,  we  pass  on  from  it  to  the  other.  Dostoiiesky 
tells  us  that  after  some  years  of  prison  life  he  became  like  his  fellow 
convicts  superficially.  "  Their  habits,  their  ideas,  their  dress,  left  their 
colour  upon  me  and  became  mine  on  the  surface,  without  penetrating  at 
all  into  my  inner  nature." 


20 8  Laws  of  Imitation 

conscious  through  repetition.  Talents  are  habits  of  activity 
which  have  also  gained  a  mechanical  facility  by  repetition. 
Both  sentiments  and  talents,  then,  are  habits;  the  only  dif- 
ference between  them  is  that  the  former  are  subjective,  and 
the  latter,  objective  facts.  Now,  is  it  not  true  that  aes- 
thetic sentiments  form  and  spread  long  before  the  talents 
which  are  fitted  to  satisfy  them  ?  And  have  we  not  a  proof 
of  this  in  the  commonplace  observation  that  the  virtuosity 
of  periods  of  decadence  survives  the  exhaustion  of  their 
inspiration  ? 

No  art  makes  its  own  religion;  style  does  not  create  the 
thought  back  of  it;  but  a  religion  or  an  idea  ultimately 
makes  the  art  or  style  which  expresses  and  illustrates  it. 
Can  we  imagine  the  painting  of  Cimabue  or  Giotto  being 
prior  to  the  spread  of  Christianity?  Our  law  explains 
why  the  fusion  of  beliefs  is  always  and  everywhere  accom- 
plished long  before  that  of  arts  or  that  of  morals  and  why, 
consequently,  even  in  the  periods  of  small  and  hostile  neigh- 
bouring states,  a  common  religion  can  spread  over  a  vast 
territory.  We  know  that  the  Greek  games  and  oracles, 
particularly  the  Delphic  Oracle  and  the  Olympic  games, 
at  first  created  and  then  continued  to  strengthen  the  senti- 
ment of  Hellenic  nationality  in  spite  of  the  small  states  into 
which  Greece  was  broken  up.  But  long  before  the  games 
became  a  common  centre,  long  before  they  gave  people  an 
opportunity  to  see  and  imitate  each  other  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  outward  things  of  life,  the  authority  of  the 
oracles  was  recognised  by  all.  Their  origin  is  lost  in  a 
fabulous  antiquity.  And  so  in  the  Middle  Ages,  also,  a 
common  faith  dominated  Europe  long  before  the  great 
monarchies  with  their  brilliant  courts  and  their  exchanges 
of  contagious  luxury  began  to  assimilate  the  outsides  of 
their  respective  peoples.  There  is  not  a  single  example  of 
the  contrary. 

We  know  that  if  juridical  or  legislative  changes  are  viable, 
they  never  precede,  but  follow  at  some  distance  the  intel- 
lectual or  economic  changes  to  which  they  correspond. 
Our  thesis  requires  this.  It  also  requires,  as  a  corollary, 


Extra-Logical  Influences  209 

that  laws,  which  are  the  outer  framework  of  society,  should 
survive  for  some  time  their  inner  reason  for  existence,  the 
wants  and  ideas  which  they  embody.  Coming'  later  or  pro- 
ceeding less  quickly,  they  must  or  may  persist  afterwards. 
This  is  also  true  of  certain  customs,  as  observation  shows 
us,  and  this  general  phenomenon  is  alone  able  to  explain  the 
particular  case  to  which  I  have  referred.  The  survivals 
of  custom,  to  use  Lubbock's  excellent  term,  have  had  so 
much  light  thrown  upon  them,  that  it  is  useless  to  cite 
many  examples.  Nevertheless,  let  us  call  to  mind  that 
after  the  matriarchal  system  was  abolished  and  even  for- 
gotten, a  simulation  of  it  was  perpetuated  in  the  couvade, 
the  attribution  of  a  fictitious  maternity  to  the  father,  and 
that  after  marriage  by  capture  had  fallen  into  disuse,  mar- 
riage ceremonies  preserved  the  fiction  of  it.  Up  to  the 
marriage  of  Louis  XVI,  the  custom  of  paying  down  thir- 
teen deniers  upon  the  conclusion  of  a  marriage  prevailed 
in  France,  in  certain  provinces  at  least,  as  a  relic  from  the 
time  of  wife-purchase.  Sects  who  rejected  the  dogma  of 
the  Eucharist  have  simulated  the  communion  service  and 
free-thinkers  who  opposed  infant  baptism  have  celebrated 
a  civic  quasi-baptism  of  their  children.  Moreover,  what 
living  religion  has  not  borrowed  its  external  observances, 
its  rites  and  processions,  from  some  dead  religion?  Is  not 
the  conservation  of  a  linguistic  root  whose  meaning  has 
changed  a  survival  of  the  same  kind  that  is  complicated, 
as  in  the  preceding  case,  by  the  introduction  of  a  new  mean- 
ing which  adapts  an  old  organ  to  a  fresh  function  ?  I  have 
just  spoken  of  juridical  survivals.  Our  codes  are  full  of 
them.  Although  feudal  law  has  been  dead  for  centuries, 
I  defy  a  jurist  to  do  without  it  in  explaining  the  famous 
distinction  between  a  possessory  and  a  petitory  action,  the 
nightmare  of  our  justices  of  the  peace.  Finally,  in  the 
sphere  of  art  and  poetry,  there  is  nothing  more  usual  than 
to  see  the  cloak  of  a  certain  school  whose  soul  is  extinct 
pass  on  to  some  new  genius. 

What  does  this  prove?     In  the  first  place  it  proves  the 
tenacity,  the  energy,  of  the  inclination  which  leads  man  to 


2i o  Laws  of  Imitation 

imitate  the  past.  But,  besides  these  aesthetic  or  ritualistic 
or  purely  mechanical  simulations  of  vanished  wants  and 
beliefs,  we  also  see  the  survival  of  the  outward  parts  of 
imitation  after  the  inward  parts — a  natural  fact,  if  the  lat- 
ter are  older  or  have  evolved  more  rapidly  than  the  former. 

The  survivals  in  question  give  us  the  counter-proof  of 
our  law.  The  following  observation  will  remove  any  re- 
maining doubt.  As  they  spread  abroad,  honorary  titles 
(sieur  instead  of  seigneur),  salutations  (a  slight  inclination 
of  the  head  instead  of  the  bent  knee  of  feudal  times),  com- 
pliments, and  manners  become  abbreviated,  diluted,  and 
simplified.  Spencer  has  shown  this  in  a  masterly  way. 
This  fact  demands  that  others  of  a  like  kind  be 
brought  into  relation  with  it.  Words  are  contracted  from 
being  constantly  used  and  vulgarised.  They  lose  their 
edge  and  wear  themselves  out  like  a  rolling  stone.  Re- 
ligious beliefs  lose  their  intensity,  arts  degenerate,  etc. 
These  facts  seem  to  prove  that  imitation  is  the  necessary 
weakening  of  that  which  is  imitated  and  that  new  inven- 
tions or  entirely  fresh  sources  for  imitation  are  therefore 
necessary  for  the  timely  reanimation  of  expiring  social 
energy.  And  there  is  much  truth  in  this,  as  we  shall  see 
later  on.  But  is  it  always  so?  No;  these  resemblances 
occur  only  between  the  final  periods  of  those  different 
evolutions  which  we  have  been  comparing.  Before  a  word 
contracts,  it  must  be  formed  and  fostered  and  magnified  by 
a  series  of  ascendent  and  not  yet  decadent  imitations.  Be- 
fore an  etiquette  is  shaken,  it  must  have  established  itself 
through  the  reinforcement  of  every  imitation  of  which  it 
has  been  the  object.  Before  a  dogma  or  a  rite  declines, 
it  must  have  asserted  and  spread  itself  throughout  the  youth 
of  its  religion. 

Whence  comes  this  contrast?  Does  it  not  result  from 
the  fact  that  in  the  first  period  imitation  was  essentially 
from  within  and  had  to  do  with  the  spread  of  beliefs  or  de- 
sires, of  beliefs  and  desires  whose  outward  forms  were 
merely  their  expression,  were  merely  secondary  objects, 
of  beliefs  and  desires  which  gradually  flared  up  by  virtue 


Extra-Logical  Influences  211 

of  their  own  law  through  their  very  propagation  and  mutual 
reflection;  whereas,  in  the  second  period,  the  outward 
forms  continued  to  spread  in  spite  of  the  gradual  drying  up 
of  their  inward  source  and  had,  consequently,  to  lose  in 
strength?  And  so  the  phenomenon  is  explained  on  the 
ground  that  imitation  passes  from  within  to  without,  from 
the  thing  signified  to  its  sign.  Now,  why  does  a  moment 
come  when  it  is  not  the  inward  side  of  the  model,  the  faith 
or  desire  implicit  in  the  act  or  speech  in  question,  but  the 
outward  side  which  is  reproduced?  It  is  because  another 
faith  or  desire  which  is  entirely  or  partly  irreconcilable  with! 
the  former  appears  on  the  very  scene  where  the  other  has 
already  spread  itself.  Then,  although  the  model  continues 
to  live  on  the  surface,  it  is  stricken  to  the  heart.  It  goes  on 
living  in  a  state  of  self-mutilation  and  suicide  until  the 
moment  when  some  new  spirit  succeeds  it.1  We  know; 
from  the  writings  of  Tertullian  and  the  discoveries  of 
archaeology  that  in  spite  of  the  religious  fervour  and  inward 
sincerity  of  the  early  Christians  they  continued,  both  men 
and  women,  to  live  externally,  to  dress,  to  coiffe,  and  even 
to  amuse  themselves  like  pagans,  without  regard  to  the  anti- 
Christian  indecency  of  the  garments  and  amusements  in 
question. 

I  cannot  conclude  this  discussion  of  imitation  ab  inte- 
rioribus  ad  exteriora  without  briefly  calling  attention  to  the 
analogy  which  imitation  presents  in  this  relation  as  well  as 
in  so  many  others  to  the  other  forms  of  Repetition. 

It  is  obvious,  from  the  very  obscurity  that  is  inherent  in 
the  study  of  life,  that  all  the  developments  of  life,  from 
fecundation  to  death,  proceed  from  some  wholly  internal 
and  absolutely  hidden  action,  from  some  vital  faith  or  in-« 
spiration,  so  to  speak,  which  is  breathed  into  the  germ  by 

1  "  Ceremonial  is  the  great  museum  of  history,"  observes  M.  Paul 
Viollet  with  much  truth.  If  this  is  so,  and  we  can  hardly  doubt  it,  it 
is  time  to  dispose  of  Spencer's  idea  of  ceremony  as  primitive  govern- 
ment. A  museum  is  far  from  being  a  primitive  thing  which  is  complete 
at  birth  and  which  shrinks  in  course  of  time.  It  takes  a  long  time  for 
it  to  be  formed  and  enlarged.  Besides,  it  replenishes  itself  from  age  to 
age. 


212  Laws  of  Imitation 

its  progenitors  and  which  is  anterior  to  its  manifestations. 
The  evolution  of  the  individual  is  the  drawing  out  of  this 
germ.  At  the  moment  of  conception  the  parents  repeat 
themselves  in  the  child  in  their  most  essential  vital  char- 
acteristics before  they  repeat  themselves,  thanks  to  the 
former  transmission,  in  their  more  visible  and  external 
traits;  for  in  the  fecundated  germ  the  whole  future  growth 
is  potential.  Similarly,  at  the  moment  when  a  catechumen 
is  converted,  some  apostle  is  repeating  himself  on  his  deep- 
est social  side,  the  side  which  is  soon  to  be  the  source  of 
the  religious  prayers  and  observances  of  the  catechumen, 
where  the  apostle's  own  prayers  and  observances  will  be  no 
less  faithfully  reproduced.  The  analogy  to  physical  phe- 
nomena of  a  like  order  is  more  conjectural.  And  yet  we 
know  the  fruitlessness  of  efforts  to  explain,  for  example, 
the  transmission  or  repetition  of  movements,  either  through 
contact  or  at  a  distance,  without  presupposing  the  existence 
of  some  preliminary  communication  of  a  hidden  force  or 
attraction;  and  the  attempts  to  explain  chemical  changes 
and  combinations  as  combinations  of  atoms  without  parts 
or  dimensions  have  been  equally  unsuccessful.  Let  us  con- 
clude that  in  nature,  as  in  society,  Repetition,  i.  e.,  Action, 
proceeds,  I  cannot  repeat  it  too  often,  ab  interioribus  ad  ex- 
teriora. 

Will  the  reader  perchance  argue,  among  other  objec- 
tions which  could  be  raised  against  this  thesis,  that  women 
are  much  more  prompt  to  adopt  foreign  fashions  in 
clothes  than  foreign  ideas?  But  in  this  instance  the  in- 
trinsic thing,  the  thing  signified,  is  either  a  woman's  vain 
affirmation  of  self, — when  in  order  to  raise  herself  a  peg  she 
imitates  the  dress  of  a  higher  class  whose  pride  and  vices 
and  pretensions  have  already  taken  hold  of  her, — or  the  sex- 
ual desire  to  please, — when  she  imitates  her  fellows  or  equals 
because  she  has  first  been  persuaded,  so  often  mistakenly, 
that  she  will  be  beautified  by  the  adoption  of  some  new 
style  of  dress  or  headgear.  Moreover,  the  example  of 
womankind  is  an  illustration  not  only  of  the  law  of  the 
spread  of  imitation  from  above  to  below,  which  I  am  about 


Extra-Logical  Influences  2 1  3 

to  discuss,  but  likewise  of  the  law  which  we  are  considering 
at  present.  Every  woman  we  know  imitates  the  man  whom 
she  loves  or  admires  or  to  whose  ascendency  she  submits. 
But  we  may  also  notice  that  the  man's  sentiments  and  ideas 
are  communicated  to  her  long  before  she  has  copied  his 
mannerisms  or  literary  knack,  or  adopted  his  forms  of 
speech  or  accent.  When  a  woman  passes  into  a  family  or 
community  which  she  considers  superior  to  her  own,  she  be- 
comes at  once  impregnated  with  the  ideas,  the  passions,  the 
prejudices,  the  vices  or  the  virtues  which  prevail  in  her  new 
society,  and  she  becomes  saturated  with  them  much  sooner 
than  a  man  under  similar  circumstances.  If,  at  the  beginning, 
woman  is,  in  many  respects,  notably  in  matters  of  religious 
belief,  unimpressionable  to  outside  examples,  it  is  because 
the  principle  of  imitation  from  within  to  without  is  abso- 
lutely applicable  in  her  case.  As  a  corollary  of  this  principle, 
the  external  manifestations  of  an  ancient  belief  persist  in  the 
speech,  gestures,  habits,  and  manners  of  woman,  much  more 
than  in  the  case  of  man,  long  after  it  has  itself  disappeared 
and  been  secretly  replaced  by  another.  The  new  cult  must 
have  won  a  stronghold  in  the  soul  of  a  woman  long  before 
she  decides  to  adopt  its  outward  garb.  This  has  always 
been  so,  and  it  is  still  so.  In  the  sixteenth  century  Mar- 
guerite de  Valois  and  her  feminine  following  were  at  heart 
converted  to  Calvinism, — in  fact  it  was  through  them  that 
the  doctrine  of  Calvin,  in  spite  of  its  being  a  doctrine  so 
little  suited  to  please  them,  began  to  spread  through  France, 
—but  they  continued  to  practice  the  Catholic  religion,  in  part, 
undoubtedly,  from  fear  of  being  butchered,  but,  primarily, 
because  of  the  logical  necessity  which  rules  that  the  things 
signified  should  precede  their  signs. 


II.  Imitation  of  the  Superior  by  the  Inferior 

The  profoundly  subjective  character  that  is  taken  on  from 
the  earliest  times  by  human  imitation,  the  privilege  which 
it  has  of  binding  souls  together  from  their  very  centres, 


214  Laws  of  Imitation 

involves,  as  may  be  seen  from  what  has  preceded,  the 
growth  of  human  inequality  and  the  formation  of  a  social 
hierarchy.  This  was  inevitable,  since  the  relation  of  model 
to  copy  developed  into  that  of  apostle  to  neophyte,  of  master 
to  subject.  Consequently,  from  the  very  fact  that  imita- 
tion proceeded  from  the  inside  to  the  outside  of  the  model, 
it  had  to  consist  in  a  descent  of  example,  in  a  descent  from 
the  superior  to  the  inferior.  This  is  a  second  law  that  is 
partly  implied  in  the  first,  but  it  needs  separate  examination. 

Moreover,  let  us  be  sure  that  we  understand  the  exact 
bearing  of  the  considerations  in  hand  as  well  as  of  those 
that  have  preceded.  In  the  first  place,  we  know  that  they 
are  based  on  the  hypothesis  that  the  influence  of  prestige, 
of  alleged  superiority,  is  neither  partly  nor  wholly  neutral- 
ised by  the  action  of  logical  laws.  However  lowly  or  even 
despised  may  be  the  author  or  introducer  of  a  new  idea  of 
relatively  striking  truth  or  utility,  it  always  ends  by  spread- 
ing through  the  public.  Thus  the  evangel  of  slaves  and 
Jews  spread  throughout  the  aristocratic  Roman  world  be- 
cause it  was  more  adapted  than  polytheism  to  answer  the 
main  problems  of  the  Roman  conscience.  Thus  at  a  cer- 
tain period  in  ancient  Egypt  the  use  of  the  horse  was  intro- 
duced from  Asia  in  spite  of  the  Egyptians'  contempt  for 
Asiatics,  because  for  many  kinds  of  work  the  horse  was 
obviously  preferable  to  the  mule,  which  had  been  in  use  up 
to  that  time.  There  are  innumerable  examples  of  this  kind. 
Similarly,  the  most  objective  of  examples,  a  word  detached 
from  its  meaning,  a  religious  rite  from  its  dogma,  a  pecul- 
iarity of  custom  from  the  want  which  it  expresses,  a  work 
or  art  from  the  social  ideal  which  it  embodies,  may  readily 
spread  in  a  strange  environment  whose  ruling  needs  and 
principles  find  it  to  their  advantage  to  replace  their  usual 
methods  of  expression  by  this  new  one  which  is  perhaps 
more  picturesque,  or  more  clear,  or  more  forcible. 

In  the  second  place,  even  when  the  action  of  logical  laws 
does  not  intervene,  it  is  not  only  the  superior  who  causes 
himself  to  be  copied  by  the  inferior,  the  patrician  by  the 
plebeian,  the  nobleman  by  the  commoner,  the  cleric  by  the 


Extra-Logical  Influences  215 

layman,  and,  at  a  later  period,  the  Parisian  by  the  pro- 
vincial, the  townsman  by  the  peasant,  etc.,  it  is  also  the  in- 
ferior who,  in  a  certain  measure,  much  less,  to  be  sure,  is 
copied,  or  is  likely  to  be  copied,  by  the  superior.  When 
two  men  are  together  for  a  long  time,  whatever  may  be 
their  difference  in  station,  they  end  by  imitating  each  other 
reciprocally,  although,  of  the  two,  the  one  imitates  much  the 
more,  the  other  much  the  less.  The  colder  body  imparts 
its  heat  to  the  warmer.  The  haughtiest  country  gentleman 
cannot  keep  his  accent,  his  manners,  and  his  point  of  view 
from  being  a  little  like  those  of  his  servants  and  tenants. 
For  the  same  reason  many  provincialisms  and  countrified 
expressions  creep  into  the  language  of  cities,  and  even  capi- 
tals, and  slang  phrases  penetrate  at  times  into  drawing 
rooms.  This  influence  from  the  bottom  to  the  top  of  a 
scale  characterises  all  classes  of  facts.  Nevertheless,  on 
the  whole,  it  is  the  generous  radiation  of  the  warm  body 
towards  the  cold,  not  the  insignificant  radiation  of  the  cold 
body  towards  the  warm,  that  is  the  main  fact  in  physics 
and  the  one  which  explains  the  final  tendency  of  the  uni- 
verse towards  an  everlasting  equilibrium  of  temperature. 
Similarly,  in  sociology,  the  radiation  of  examples  from 
above  to  below  is  the  only  fact  worth  consideration  because 
of  the  general  levelling  which  it  tends  to  produce  in  the 
human  world. 

i.  Now  let  me  endeavour  to  elucidate  the  truth  which  we 
are  discussing.  There  is  nothing  more  natural  than  that 
those  who  love  each  other  should  copy  each  other,  or, 
rather,  as  this  phenomenon  always  begins  by  being  one- 
sided, that  the  lover  should  copy  the  beloved.  But  in  proof 
of  the  depth  which  is  reached  by  the  action  of  imitation  in 
man's  heart  we  see  people  aping  one  another  everywhere, 
even  in  their  fights.  The  conquered  never  fail  to  copy 
their  conquerors  if  only  to  prepare  for  their  revenge.  When 
they  borrow  the  military  organisation  of  their  conquerors 
they  are  careful  to  say  and  they  sincerely  think  that  their 
sole  motive  is  a  utilitarian  calculation.  But  we  shall  find 
this  explanation  inadequate,  if  we  compare  this  fact  with 


2 1 6  Laws  of  Imitation 

a  considerable  number  of  correlated  facts  in  which  the  sen- 
timent of  utility  plays  no  part  whatsoever. 

For  example,  the  conquered  do  not  merely  borrow  the 
superior  weapons,  the  longer  range  guns,  and  the  more  ad- 
mirable methods  of  their  conqueror;  they  also  take  from 
him  many  of  his  insignificant  military  peculiarities  and 
habits,  whose  acclimatisation,  granted  that  it  were  possible, 
would  raise  difficulties  wholly  out  of  proportion  to  its  feeble 
advantages.  During  the  thirteenth  century  Florence  and 
Sienna,  who  were  always  at  war  with  each  other,  arrayed 
troops  against  each  other  that  were  not  only  organised  in 
the  same  way,  but  that  were  also  preceded  by  that  strange 
cart  (carroccio)  and  singular  bell  (martinella)  which  were 
at  first  peculiar  to  Lombardy,  that  is,  to  what  was  for  a 
long  time  the  most  powerful  part  of  Italy  (so  much  so  that 
Lombard  and  Italian  had  the  same  meaning),  and  which 
were  then  imported  with  certain  modifications  to  Florence, 
whence,  thanks  to  the  prestige  of  that  flourishing  city,  they 
spread  to  its  hostile  neighbours.  And  yet  the  cart  was  an 
encumbrance  and  the  bell  a  real  danger.  Why,  then,  should 
both  Florence  and  Sienna  have  copied  those  peculiarities 
instead  of  keeping  to  their  own  customs?  For  the  same 
reason  that  the  lower  classes  of  society,  that  is,  the  defeated, 
or  the  sons  of  the  defeated,  in  civil  wars,  copy  the  dress, 
the  manners,  the  speech,  the  vices,  etc.,  of  the  upper  classes. 
It  will  not  be  said,  in  this  instance,  that  the  imitation  is  a 
military  operation  in  view  of  revenge.  It  is  simply  the  satis- 
faction of  a  special  fundamental  need  in  social  life  the  final 
consequence  of  which  is  the  preparation  through  many  con- 
flicts of  conditions  of  future  peace.1 

Whatever  may  be  the  organisation  of  a  society,  aristo- 
cratic or  democratic,  we  may  be  sure,  if  we  see  imitation 
making  rapid  strides  in  it,  that  the  inequality  between  its 

JIt  seems  that  before  the  Japanese  came  into  communication  with 
China  they  possessed  a  syllabic  writing,  or  several,  in  fact,  of  much 
greater  usefulness  and  convenience  than  the  Chinese  writing ;  but  as  soon 
as  this  youthful  and  pre-eminently  suggestible  people  felt  the  prestige 
of  the  superiority  which  they  attributed  to  the  mandarins,  they  adopted 
Chinese  writing  to  the  hindrance  of  their  own  progress. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  217 

different  levels  is  very  great,  besides  being  more  or  less  ap- 
parent. And  we  have  only  to  learn  the  set  of  its  main  cur- 
rent of  examples,  overlooking  the  unimportant  back  eddies, 
to  discover  the  real  social  power.  If  the  nation  is  on  an 
aristocratic  basis  the  thing  is  very  simple.  Given  the  op- 
portunity, a  nobility  will  always  and  everywhere  imitate  its 
leaders,  its  kings  or  suzerains,  and  the  people,  likewise,  given 
the  opportunity,  its  nobility.  Baudrillart  writes  in  his 
Histoire  de  luxe  that  at  Constantinople  under  the  Byzantine 
emperors,  "  the  court  looks  up  to  the  prince,  the  city  looks 
to  the  court  for  its  model,  and  the  poor  man  gazes  upon 
the  rich  man  and  wishes  to  share  in  his  luxury."  *  The 
same  was  true  in  France  under  Louis  XIV.  Saint-Simon 
writes  on  the  same  subject  of  luxury:  "It  is  a  sore  that 
once  introduced  becomes  an  internal,  all-devouring  cancer, 
for  it  quickly  communicates  itself  from  the  court  at 
Paris  to  the  provinces  and  the  armies."  M.  de  Barante 
writes  that  in  the  fifteenth  century  "  it  was  purposed  to 
strictly  forbid  all  those  games,  dice,  cards,  or  rackets,  which 
had  found  a  way  to  the  people  in  imitation  of  the  court." 
The  innumerable  card  players  that  we  see  in  the  inns  and 
taverns  of  to-day  are,  then,  unwitting  copyists  of  our  old 
royal  courts.  Forms  and  rules  of  politeness  have  spread 
through  the  same  channel.  Courtesy  comes  from  the 
court,  as  civility  comes  from  the  city.  The  accent  of  the 
court  and,  later  on,  that  of  the  capital  spread  little  by  little 
to  all  classes  and  to  all  provinces  of  the  nation.  We 
may  be  sure  that  in  times  past  there  were  a  Babylonian  ac- 
cent, a  Ninevite  accent,  a  Memphite  accent,  just  as  there 
are  to-day  a  Parisian  accent,  a  Florentine  accent,  and  a  Ber- 
lin accent.  This  transmission  of  accent,  precisely  because  it 
is  one  of  the  most  unconscious,  irresistible,  and  inexplicable 
forms  of  imitation,  very  properly  illustrates  the  depth  of 
that  force  and  the  truth  of  that  law  which  I  am  expounding. 
When  we  see  that  the  influence  of  the  upper  classes  upon 
the  lower,  of  townsmen  upon  rustics,  of  colonial  whites 
upon  native  blacks,  of  adults  upon  children,  of  upper 
1  [II,  340.-7Y.] 


2i 8  Laws  of  Imitation 

classmen  upon  lower,  is  felt  even  in  the  matter  of 
accent,  we  can  no  longer  doubt  that  it  is  felt  a  fortiori 
in  matters  of  writing,  gesture,  facial  expression,  dress,  and 
custom. 

The  tendency  to  ape  the  hierarchical  superior  and  the 
rapidity  with  which  this  inclination  has  at  all  times  satis- 
fied itself,  at  the  slightest  touch  of  public  prosperity,  de- 
serve to  be  indicated.1  The  frequency  of  the  sumptu- 
ary edicts  during  the  entire  period  of  the  old  regime  is  a 
proof  of  this,  just  as  the  multiplicity  of  a  river's  dykes 
bears  witness  to  the  impetuosity  of  its  currents.  The 
first  French  Court  dates  from  Charles  VIII;  but  we  must 
not  think  that  the  imitative  contagion  of  court  manners 
and  luxury  took  several  centuries  to  reach  down  to  the 
common  people  of  France.  From  the  time  of  Louis  XII 
its  influence  was  felt  everywhere.  The  disasters  of  the 
religious  wars  arrested  its  development  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  but,  in  the  following  century,  it  started  up  again 
very  rapidly.  Then  the  miseries  brought  on  by  the  last 
war  of  the  Grand  Monarch  occasioned  another  setback. 
During  the  eighteenth  century  there  was  a  fresh  start; 
under  the  Revolution,  another  reaction.  In  the  time  of 
the  First  Empire  the  advance  began  again  on  a  great 
scale;  but  from  that  time  on  it  took  a  democratic  form 
about  which  we  need  not  trouble  ourselves  for  the  moment. 
Under  Francis  I  and  Henry  II  the  spread  of  the  luxury 
begun  under  Louis  XII  continued.  At  this  period  a 
sumptuary  law  forbade  "  all  peasants,  labourers,  and  valets, 
unless  attached  to  princes,  to  wear  silken  doublets  or  hose 
overladen  or  puffed  out  with  silk."  From  1543  to  the  time 
of  the  League  there  were  eight  important  ordinances 
against  luxury.  "  Some  of  them,"  says  Baudrillart,  "  apply 
to  every  French  subject;  they  interdict  the  use  of  cloth  of 
gold,  of  silver,  or  of  silk."  2  Such  was  the  general  elegance 

1  The  point  to  which  this  craze  can  go  may  be  seen  from  the  following 
example.     In    1705,   according  to   the   Marquis   d'Argenson,   the   very 
yalets  of  men  of  high  rank  had  servants. 

2  [Histoire  de  luxe,  III,  440.— TV.] 


Extra-Logical  Influences  219 

that  prevailed  on  the  eve  of  the  religious  wars.1  To  justify 
laws  in  restraint  of  trade  "  one  of  the  reasons  most  fre- 
quently cited  was  the  fact  that  France  was  ruining  itself  in 
the  purchase  of  objects  of  luxury."  Besides,  the  same  fact 
is  revealed  in  the  prosperity  of  the  industries  of  luxury 
which  presuppose  an  extensive  patronage.2 

If  we  go  still  farther  back  to  classical  antiquity,  the  same 
law  will  be  verified.  We  learn  from  a  text  of  Sidonius 
Apollinaris  that  the  speaking  of  Latin  was  begun  in  Gaul 
by  the  Gallic  nobility  and  spread  from  them,  together  with 
Roman  morals  and  ideas,  into  the  bosom  of  the  people. 

Here  is  another  example.     Let  us  picture  to  ourselves 


1  Abundant  proof  that  the  same  condition  existed  in  Germany  is  given 
by  Johannes  Janssen.  For  example,  "  in  Pomerania  and  the  island  of 
Rugen,  .  .  .  the  peasants  are  rich.  They  wear  none  but  English  gar- 
ments or  others  as  good.  Their  dress  is  as  fine  as  that  formerly  worn 
by  the  burghers  or  nobles "  [Die  allgemeinen  Zustdnde  des  deutschen 
Volkes  beim  Ausgang  des  Mittelalters,  p.  312,  ninth  edition,  Freiburg, 
1883.—  TV.]. 

These  lines  are  quoted  by  Janssen  from  Kantzow,  a  Pomeranian 
historian  of  the  time.  We  learn  from  sermons  that  silken  garments 
were  being  worn  by  the  peasants.  In  Italy,  according  to  Burckhardt, 
there  was  at  the  same  period  the  same  descent  of  luxury  to  all  classes. 

2  This  contagion  of  luxury  has  often  been  an  instrument  for  the 
spread  of  useful  things.  Our  most  useful  species  (animal),  Bourdeau 
says  in  his  Conquete  du  monde  animal,  were  originally  bred  for  amuse- 
ment rather  than  for  the  then  unforseen  advantages  which  its  do- 
mestication might  procure.  The  same  motive  leads  us  to-day  to  search  for 
new  and  peculiar  species,  and  in  primitive  times  every  animal  that  was 
conquered  had  this  charm  of  novelty.  Formerly  in  Rome  and  Greece 
a  duck  or  a  goose  was  presented  as  a  love-token  to  the  beloved  woman 
or  child.  In  the  time  of  Caesar  the  Britons  kept  chickens  and  geese 
for  luxurious  display,  not  for  consumption  ...  ;  in  the  sixteenth 
century  the  Indian  duck  and  turkey  ornamented  the  parks  of  the 
nobility  before  they  descended  into  the  ranks  of  ordinary  poultry  to 
be  banished  to  the  barnyard.  .  .  .  This  movement  is  logical  and 
necessary.  Only  the  wealthy  classes  are  able  to  have  costly  lessons  and 
make  hazardous  experiments.  But  when  success  is  assured  the  gain 
becomes  general." 

If  the  Gallic  nobility  began  to  adopt  the  speech  and  customs  of  Rome, 
after  the  conquest,  it  was  because  then,  for  the  first  time,  they  felt 
the  superiority  of  Rome.  Why  did  the  American  Indians  never  adopt 
European  civilisation  ?  Because  their  immense  pride  kept  them  from 
considering  themselves  inferior  to  Anglo-Americans.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  negroes  of  America,  who  have  been  accustomed  to  recognise 


22O  Laws  of  Imitation 

the  basin  of  the  Mediterranean  in  the  eighth  century  before 
Christ;  at  the  moment  of  the  great  Tyrian  or  Sidonian  pros- 
perity, when  the  Phoenicians,  the  European  carriers  of  the 
arts  of  Egypt  and  Assyria,  were  arousing  among  the  Greeks 
and  other  peoples  a  taste  for  luxurious  and  beautiful  things. 
These  merchants  were  not  like  modern  English  traders  in 
cheap  and  common  fabrics;  like  the  mediaeval  Venetians, 
they  were  wont  to  display  along  the  seaboard  fine  products 
that  appealed  to  the  rich  people  of  all  countries,  purple  gar- 
ments, perfumes,  golden  cups,  figurines,  costly  armour,  ex- 
voto  offerings,  graceful  and  charming  ornaments.  Thus 
all  over,  in  Sardinia,  in  Etruria,  in  Greece,  in  the  Archi- 
pelago, in  Asia  Minor,  and  in  Gaul,  the  highest  classes,  the 
chosen  few,  might  be  seen  wearing  helmets,  swords,  brace- 
lets, and  tunics  which  were  more  or  less  alike  from  one  end 
to  the  other  of  this  vast  region,  while  beneath  them  the  ple- 
beian population  continued  to  be  differentiated  from  one 
another  by  their  characteristic  dress  and  weapons.  And  yet, 
although  these  plebeians  differed  so  much  from  their  leaders 
on  the  outside,  they  closely  resembled  them  in  their  ideas 
and  passions,  in  their  religious  superstitions  and  ethical  prin- 
ciples. 

In  the  fourteenth  or  fifteenth  century  of  our  era,  exactly 
the  same  spectacle  would  have  struck  the  Arthur  Young 
of  that  time  in  travelling  through  France  and  Europe.  At 
this  epoch  the  same  Venetian  products  had  spread  every- 
where and  were  inundating  and  assimilating  palaces  and 
chateaux  and  city  mansions,  whereas,  although  the  same 
religion  and  morality  prevailed  in  huts  and  cottages  as  in 
noble  and  sumptuous  dwellings,  the  former  still  retained 
their  distinct  and  original  characteristics.  Now,  little  by 
little,  from  above  to  below,  assimilation  has  so  advanced 
both  in  antiquity  and  in  modern  times,  that  finally  a  great 
carrying  trade,  not  for  the  use  of  the  few,  but  for  that 
of  the  entire  mass  of  a  vast  people,  has  become  possible, 

the  supremacy  of  the  whites,  even  after  the  abolition  of  slavery,  have 
had  a  very  strong  and  noticeable  tendency  to  copy  their  masters,  or 
their  sometime  masters,  in  everything. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  221 

— to  the  great  advantage  of  the  England  of  to-day,  of  the 
America  of  to-morrow.1 

Therefore  the  apologists  for  aristocracy  have,  in  my  opin- 
ion, passed  over  its  best  justification.  The  principal  role  of  a 
nobility,  its  distinguishing  mark,  is  its  initiative,  if  not  in- 
ventive, character.  Invention  can  start  from  the  lowest  ranks 
of  the  people,  but  its  extension  depends  upon  the  existence 
of  some  lofty  social  elevation,  a  kind  of  social  water-tower, 
whence  a  continuous  water-fall  of  imitation  may  descend. 
At  every  period  and  in  every  country  the  aristocratic  body 
has  been  open  to  foreign  novelties  and  has  been  quick  to  im- 
port them,3  just  as  the  staff  of  an  army  is  the  best-informed 
part  of  the  army  on  the  subject  of  foreign  military  innova- 
tions, and  the  most  apt  in  adopting  them  intelligently,  there- 
by rendering  as  much  service  as  by  the  discipline  which  it 
inspires.  As  long  as  its  vitality  endures,  a  nobility  may 
be  recognised  by  this  characteristic.  When,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  throws  itself  back  upon  traditions,  jealously  at- 
taches itself  to  them  and  defends  them  against  the  attacks  of 
a  people  whom  it  had  previously  accustomed  to  changes, 
it  is  safe  to  say  that  its  great  work  is  done,  however  useful  it 
may  be  in  this  complementary  role  of  moderator,  and  that 
its  decline  has  set  in.* 

1  Let  me  antfcipate  an  objection.    It  may  be  urged  that  in  imitating 
foreign  fashions   in  dress,  armour,  and   furniture,   the   Mediterranean 
aristocracy  in  the  time  of  the  Phoenicians,  and  the  European  aristoc- 
racy at  the  time  of  the  Venetian  commerce,  proceeded  ab  exterioribus 
ad  interiora;  but  this  would  be  a  mistake.     Both   these  aristocracies 
succumbed  to  the  prestige  of  some  dominating  nation,  of  Egypt  or  of 
Assyria,  of  Italy  or  of  Constantinople.     The  literature  of  these  coun- 
tries had  penetrated  them  before  their  arts;  their  glory  had  subjugated 
them.     The  social  function   of   aristocracies  is  to  initiate  populations 
into  an  admiration  and  envy  of  foreign  things,  and  thus  to  cut  a  way 
for  fashion-imitation  as  a  substitute  for  custom-imitation. 

2  Another  example :  it  was  through  the  Roman  aristocracy,  during 
the  days  of  the  Scipios,  that  Greek  ideas  and  Greek  speech  and  civilisa- 
tion reached  Rome. 

*  It  sometimes,  or,  even,  often,  happens  that  the  conquerors  pattern 
themselves  after  the  conquered,  borrowing  their  habits,  their  laws,  and 
their  language.  The  Franks  in  Gaul  became  Latinised  and  spoke  a 
"Romance  tongue.  The  same  thing  happened  to  the  Normans  in 
England,  to  the  Varangians  in  Russia,  etc.  But  in  these  cases  it  was 


222  Laws  of  Imitation 

2.  In  this  respect,  in  spite  of  appearances  to  the  contrary, 
the  ecclesiastical  resembles  the  civil  hierarchy.  Certainly, 
had  it  not  been  for  the  strongly  aristocratic  constitution  of 
the  Christian  clergy,  the  spread  of  the  same  dogmas  and, 
later  on,  of  the  same  rites,  could  never  have  covered  such  an 
immense  space  as  it  did,  and  produced,  in  spite  of  the  disin- 
tegration of  feudal  society,  that  great  unity  of  spirit  and 
ritual  called  Christianity.  It  was  because  of  the  lack  of  such 
a  pyramidal  organisation  that,  although  Protestanism  ap- 
peared at  an  epoch  of  great  national  centralisation  instead  of 
disintegration,  at  an  epoch,  therefore,  which  was  highly  fa- 
vourable for  the  diffusion  of  one  uniform  doctrine  or  cult,  it 
was,  nevertheless,  split  up  into  an  endless  number  of  sects. 
Now,  as  long  as  the  pontifical  court  and  the  episcopal  body 
of  the  Catholic  clergy  continued  to  be  an  active  aristocracy, 
their  special  characteristic  was  their  monopoly  of  religious 
initiatives;  and  the  singular  complexity  of  the  dogmas  and 
cult  which  were  enriched  and  expanded  at  each  council  and 
synod  testified  to  their  initiating  propensity.  Through 
these  numerous  and  frequently  reform  reunions,  the  bishops 
and  abbots  kept  in  touch  with  new  fashions  in  theology,  in 
casuistry,  and  in  liturgy,  and  enabled  these  fashions  to  reach 
downwards.1  Their  taste  for  innovation  went  even  farther; 
it  was  not  confined  to  the  religious  sphere.  The  higher  clergy 
became  depraved  at  the  end  of  the  Middle  Ages  for  the  same 
reason  for  which,  later  on,  the  French  nobility  became  ener- 
vated. It  was  because,  at  that  epoch,  it  was  the  pre-eminently 
superior  and  controlling  class,  the  first  to  be  touched  by  the 
dawn  of  a  new  civilisation.  If  the  ecclesiastical  pinnacles  of 

because  the  conqueror  felt  the  social  superiority  of  the  conquered,  and 
the  more  real  and  appreciated  this  superiority  the  more  faithfully  was 
the  latter  reflected  by  the  former.  As  the  Anglo-Saxon  was  only 
slightly  superior  to  the  Norman  of  William  the  Conqueror,  there  was 
a  fusion  of  two  civilisations  and,  especially,  of  two  languages,  into  one 
civilisation  and  into  one  new  language,  rather  than  a  triumph  of  the 
Saxon  element.  Besides,  we  know  that  the  Gallo-Roman  nobility  sur- 
vived the  invasion  and  continued  to  take  the  lead. 

1In  India,  according  to  Earth,  the  Brahmans  are  at  the  head  of 
all  religious  innovations,  the  source,  in  that  country,  of  all  changes 
whatsoever. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  223 

the  Europe  of  that  day  had  withstood  the  influence  of  new  in- 
ventions and  discoveries,  and,  consequently,  of  new  manners 
and  morals,  the  arrival  of  modern  civilisation  would  have 
certainly  been  retarded  for  several  centuries  if  not  indefinitely 
postponed. 

In  a  period  of  theocratic  aristocracy,  if  the  hovel  copies 
the  chateau,  the  chateau  copies  some  church  or  temple,  first 
in  its  style  of  architecture  and  then  in  the  different  forms 
of  art  and  luxury  which  develop  in  it  before  spreading 
down  to  lower  circles.  In  the  Middle  Ages  the  cathedral 
goldsmith  and  cabinet-maker  set  the  standard  for  the  sec- 
ular artisans  who  filled  the  dwellings  of  the  nobles  with 
Gothic  jewelry  and  furniture.  Sculpture,  painting,  poetry, 
and  music  were  secularised  in  the  same  way.  Just  as  the 
royal  courts  created,  under  the  form  of  flattery  and  of  nar- 
row and  one-sided  courtesy,  the  habit  of  reciprocal  and  gen- 
eral amiability  and  politeness,  and  just  as  the  example  of  the 
command  of  one  chief  or  of  the  privileges  of  a  chosen  few 
had  only  to  spread  to  give  birth  to  law,  the  command  of  each 
to  all  and  of  all  to  each,  so  we  find  in  the  beginning  of  every 
literature  some  sacred  book,  the  Book  of  all  others,  the  book 
of  which  all  later  secular  books  are  merely  sanctuary-stolen 
reflections,  in  the  beginning  of  all  writing  some  historic 
writing,  in  the  beginning  of  all  music  some  religious  dirge 
or  lyric,  at  the  beginning  of  all  sculpture  some  idol,  at  the 
beginning  of  all  painting  some  tomb  or  temple  fresco  or; 
some  monachal  illumination  of  the  sacred  book.  .  .  .  Tem- 
ples, then,  antedate  palaces,  in  the  right  of  being  considered 
the  secular,  and,  for  a  long  time,  the  indispensable  centres  of 
the  spread  of  civilisation  in  the  extrinsic  and  superficial 
meaning  of  the  word  as  well  as  in  its  intrinsic  and  deeper 
meaning,  in  matters  of  art  and  elegance  as  well  as  in  those 
of  maxim  and  conviction.1 


1  The  instructive  traveller,  Abbe  Pelitot,  says  that  among  the  Esqui- 
maux the  men,  but  not  the  women,  pray  in  the  morning  and  evening. 
With  us  the  opposite  is  the  more  frequent  occurrence.  In  this  connec- 
tion the  Revue  scientifique  (November  21,  1888)  justly  remarks  that 
"  among  all  primitive  peoples,  religion,  like  war  and  hunting,  is  the 


224  Laws  of  Imitation 

3.  It  is  during  the  periods  when  the  sacerdotal  rule  is 
declining  and  when  ecclesiastical  teaching  is  becoming  less 
and  less  the  source  of  beliefs  that  the  art  and  luxury  of 
priestly  examples  come  to  be  more  and  more  closely  fol- 
lowed, and  that  there  is  no  fear  of  profaning  the  decorative 
sides  of  worship  in  secularising  them.  In  the  same  way  when 
aristocratic  rule  begins  to  weaken,  and  wherTless  obedience 
is  paid  to  privileged  classes,  people  are  emboldened  to  copy 
them  in  external  things.  We  know  that  this  conforms  to 
advance  ab  exterior'ibus  ad  exteriora,  but  it  is  also  in  part 
explained  by  the  application  of  another  very  general  law, 
which  should  be  combined  with  that  concerning  the  imita- 
tion of  superiors.  If  the  latter  were  unconditional,  the  most 
superior  thing  would  be  the  one  to  be  most  imitated ;  but,  in 
reality,  the  thing  that  is  most  imitated  is  the  most  superior 
one  of  those  that  arc  nearest.  In  fact,  the  influence  of  the 
model's  example  is  efficacious  inversely  to  its  distance  as  well 
as  directly  to  its  superiority.  Distance  is  understood  here 
in  its  sociological  meaning.  However  distant  in  space  a 
stranger  may  be,  he  is  close  by,  from  this  point  of  view,  if  we 
have  numerous  and  daily  relations  with  him  and  if  we  have 
every  facility  to  satisfy  our  desire  to  imitate  him.  This  law 
of  the  imitation  of  the  nearest,  of  the  least  distant,  explains 
the  gradual  and  consecutive  character  of  the  spread  of  an 
example  that  has  been  set  by  the  highest  social  ranks.  We 
may  infer,  as  its  corollary,  when  we  see  a  lower  class  setting 
itself  to  imitating  for  the  first  time  a  much  higher  class, 
that  the  distance  between  the  two  had  diminished.1 


function  of  the  men."  From  this  fact,  we  may  properly  infer  that  if 
religion  survives  longer  in  the  hearts  and  in  the  habits  of  women,  it  is 
because  they  originally  adopted  it  from  the  example  of  their  lords 
and  masters.  Another  confirmation  of  our  law. 

1 "  How  does  it  happen,"  queries  M.  Melchoir  de  Vogue,  "  that  the 
negro  fetich  worshippers  who  are  pursued  by  the  man-hunting  negro 
Moslems  adopt  with  so  much  facility  the  Mahometan  faith  of  their 
persecutors?  "  It  is  the  imitation  of  a  superior.  But  it  is  necessary  for 
the  superior  to  be  near ;  the  superiority  must  not  be  great  enough  to  dis- 
courage imitation.  That  is  the  reason  why  Christianity  makes  little 
progress  among  negroes.  Whereas  the  conquests  of  Islam  among 
them  are  almost  as  rapid  as  the  conquests  of  the  days  of  Mahomet. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  225 

4.  A  period  is  called  democratic  as  soon  as  the  distance 
between  all  classes  has  lessened  enough,  through  various 
causes,  to  allow  of  the  external  imitation  of  the  highest  by 
the  lowest.  In  every  democracy,  then,  like  our  own,  where  the 
fever  of  subjective  and  objective  assimilation  is  intense,  we 
may  be  sure  of  the  existence  of  an  established  or  incipient 
social  hierarchy  of  recognised  superiors,  of  superiors 
through  heredity  or  selection.  In  our  own  case  it  is  not  dif- 
ficult to  perceive  by  whom  the  ancient  aristocracy  was  re- 
placed after  the  sceptre  of  the  refinements  of  life  had  in  large 
part  slipped  from  its  grasp.  In  the  first  place  the  admin- 
istrative hierarchy  has  been  growing  more  complicated, 
adding  to  its  height  by  increasing  the  number  of  its  grades 
and  to  its  breadth  by  increasing  the  number  of  its  function- 
aries. The  same  thing  is  true  in  the  case  of  our  military 
hierarchy  because  of  the  reasons  which  have  forced  modern 
European  States  to  become  military  nations.  Prelates  and 
princes  of  the  blood,  monks  and  cavaliers,  monasteries  and 
chateaux  have  been  suppressed  to  give  place  to  publicists1 
and  financiers,  to  artists  and  politicians,  to  theatres,  banks, 
bazaars,  barracks,  government  buildings,  and  to  the  other 
monuments  that  are  grouped  within  the  circumference  of  a 
capital.  Here  celebrities  of  every  kind  congregate.  Now 
what  are  all  the  different  kinds  and  degrees  of  glory  or 
notoriety  that  are  known  to  society,  but  a  brilliant  hierarchy 
of  either  filled  or  vacant  places  which  the  public  alone  is 
free,  or  thinks  it  is  free,  to  dispose  of  ? 

Now,  instead  of  becoming  more  simple  and  more  humble, 
this  aristocracy  of  place,  this  platform  of  brilliant  stations, 
grows  more  and  more  impressive  through  the  very  effect  of 
democratic  transformations  which  lower  national  and  class 
walls  and  give  a  more  and  more  universal  and  international 
suffrage  to  the  candidates  for  fame.  The  amount  of  glory 
that  may  be  divided  among  the  actors  increases  in  propor- 
tion to  the  number  of  the  spectators  who  are  clapping  or 

1  Tocqueville  shows  in  a  masterly  way  (Democratic  en  Amerique) 
that  "  the  sway  of  journalism  must  extend  as  men  grow  more  and 
more  equal." 


226  Laws  of  Imitation 

hissing  in  the  pit,  and  the  distance  between  the  most  obscure 
onlooker  and  the  most  applauded  player  enlarges  accord- 
ingly. The  apotheosis  of  Victor  Hugo,  an  impossible  oc- 
currence thirty  years  ago,  revealed  the  existence  of  a  high 
mountain  of  literary  glory  which  has  been  recently  raised  up, 
like  the  Pyrenees  in  the  past,  from  out  of  a  vast  and  un- 
broken plain,  and  which,  with  its  train  of  minor  peaks,  piled 
up  at  its  base,  offers  itself  henceforward  to  the  ambition  of 
future  poets.  Invisible  mountains  of  this  kind  are  ever 
springing  up  through  the  pavements  of  big  cities,  where  they 
crowd  upon  each  other  like  the  roofs  of  houses.  In  the 
prodigious  growth,  in  the  hypertrophy  of  great  cities  and,  es- 
pecially, of  capitals,  where  oppressive  privileges  take  root  and 
ramify,  while  the  last  traces  of  the  privileges  of  the  past  are 
jealously  effaced,  is  to  be  found  the  kind  of  inequality  which! 
modern  life  creates  and  which  it  finds  indispensable,  in  fact, 
in  managing  and  promoting  the  great  currents  of  its  indus- 
trial production  and  consumption,  i.  e.,  of  imitation  on  an 
immense  scale.  The  course  of  a  Ganges  like  this  necessi^ 
tated  a  Himalayas.  Paris  is  the  Himalayas  of  France. 
Paris  unquestionably  rules  more  royally  and  more  orientally; 
over  the  provinces  than  the  court  ever  ruled  over  the  city. 
Every  day  the  telegraph  or  the  railroad  distributes  its  ready-« 
made  ideas,  wishes,  conversations,  revolutions,  its  ready- 
made  dresses  and  furniture,  throughout  the  whole  of  France. 
The  suggestive  and  imperious  fascination  which  it  instan-i 
taneously  exerts  over  this  vast  territory  is  so  profound,  so 
complete,  and  so  sustained,  that  it  no  longer  surprises  any- 
one. This  kind  of  magnetisation  has  become  chronic.  It  is 
called  liberty  and  equality.  It  is  futile  for  the  city  labourer 
to  consider  himself  a  democrat  in  working  for  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  middle  classes  (engaged  as  he  is  in  rising  into  the 
middle  class  himself) ;  he  is  none  the  less  an  aristocrat  him- 
self, the  much  admired  and  the  much  envied  aristocrat  of  the 
peasant.  The  peasant  is  to  the  labourer  what  the  labourer 
is  to  his  employer.  This  is  the  cause  of  the  emigration  out 
of  the  rural  districts. 

Although  the  sivorn  communes  of  the  Middle  Ages  grew 


Extra-Logical  Influences  227 

out  of  a  spirit  of  hostility  against  the  local  over-lord  and 
against  feudalism  in  general,  nevertheless,  as  M.  Luchaire 
informs  us,  their  effect  and  their  aim  was  to  raise  the  city 
in  which  they  were  established  to  the  rank  of  a  collective 
seigniory,  the  vassal  or  suzerain  of  other  seigniories,  receiv- 
ing or  contributing  feudal  dues  and  having  its  own  rank  in 
the  feudal  hierarchy.  The  seals  of  the  communes  generally 
represented  military  emblems,  a  foot  soldier,  or  an  armed 
knight  on  a  galloping  horse,  like  the  seals  of  the  nobility. 
The  same  writer,  in  his  exhaustive  historical  work  on  the 
subject,  has  proved  that  the  emancipating  movement  of  the 
communes  of  the  twelfth  century  was  not  confined  to  the 
cities  but  that,  following  their  example,  the  mere  villages 
on  their  outskirts  or  beyond  freed  themselves  in  the  same 
way,  by  confederation.  The  historians  have  hitherto  ignored 
this  fact,  but  it  is  nevertheless  incontestable  that,  in  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  there  were  first  urban  communes  and  then  rural 
communes.  It  is  a  remarkable  thing  that  the  same  order  is 
followed  even  in  the  case  of  agricultural  innovations. 
Roscher  says,  for  example,  that  "  it  was  in  the  town  that 
the  modern  system  of  rent,  of  ground  rent,  was  first  sub- 
stituted for  feudal  dues,  as  may  be  seen  from  the  Charter: 
of  Ghent  of  1259  in  the  Warnkoenig."  Let  me  add  that 
contrary  to  the  opinion  of  Augustin  Thierry  the  emancipar 
tion  of  the  communes  was  not  caused  by  popular  insurrec- 
tion, by  a  spontaneous  uprising  of  lowly  artisan  corpora- 
tions, but,  as  recent  historical  research  has  shown,1  by  an 
originally  very  exclusive  league  of  rich  merchants  who  were 
already  associated  in  guilds  or  religious  brotherhoods  and 
who  formed  the  aristocracy  of  the  city.  "  They  were  trans- 
formed into  real  leagues  and  ranged  behind  themselves  the  . 
rest  of  the  inhabitants,  so  that  the  commune  started,  in 
general,  from  a  league  of  all  the  inhabitants  grouped  to- 
gether under  the  oath  of  the  middle-class  aristocracy." 

A  capital,  a  great  modern  city,  is  the  first  choice,  the 
cream,  so  to  speak,  of  the  population.     While  the  numerical 

1  See   Histoire   generale    of   Lavisse    and    Rambaud,    II,    431    and 
following. 


228  Laws  of  Imitation 

importance  of  the  two  sexes  is  about  equal  in  a  nation  taken 
as  a  whole,  the  number  of  men  in  great  centres  is  notably 
larger  than  that  of  women.  Besides,  the  proportion  of  adults 
is  far  greater  in  the  cities  than  it  is  in  the  rest  of  the  country. 
Finally,  and  above  all,  the  cities  attract  to  themselves  from 
all  directions  the  most  active  brains  and  the  most  nervous 
organisms,  the  fittest  to  utilise  modern  inventions.  This 
is  the  way  in  which  they  form  the  modern  aristocracy,  a 
select,  non-hereditary,  but  liberally  recruited  body;  and  yet 
this  does  not  keep  it  in  the  least  from  being  as  scornful  of 
the  lower  rural  population  as  were  ever  the  nobles  of  the 
old  regime  of  the  common  people.1  This  new  aristoc- 
racy is  as  selfish,  as  rapacious,  and  as  destructive  as 
the  ancient  aristocracy,  and  if,  like  all  aristocracies,  it  did 
not  speedily  renew  itself  by  the  incoming  of  new  ele- 
ments, it  also  would  quickly  perish  from  the  vices  which 
«at  into  it,  from  tuberculosis  and  syphilis,  its  characteristic 
diseases,  from  poverty,  its  curse,  from  alcoholism,  from  all 
those  causes  which  render  its  death  rate  unusually  high  in 
spite  of  its  exceptionally  distinguished  constituency. 

Modern  capitals  not  only  help  to  suppress  and  equalise  all 
the  subordinate  parts  of  their  nation,  they  also  aid  in  the  as- 
similation of  the  different  communities  lying  between  them, 
and  from  this  point  of  view  they  again  play  the  role  of  the 
ancient  royal  courts.  Under  the  Plantagenets,  the  luxuries  of 
France  and  England  were,  in  spite  of  the  infrequency  of 
travel  and  international  relations,  strikingly  alike.  This 
similarity  can  be  explained  only  as  an  outcome  of  the  influ- 

1  At  first  it  would  seem  as  if  the  law  of  imitation  from  above 
to  below  were  inapplicable  to  the  propagation  of  Christianity  in  view 
of  its  original  spread  among  the  lower  classes.  It  is  true  that  its  prog- 
ress amounted  to  little  until  it  won  over  the  upper  classes  and  even 
the  Imperial  court.  But  we  should  note,  especially,  that  Christianity 
began  to  spread  in  cities,  in  large  cities  first,  and  that  it  was 
only  later  that  it  reached  the  country  districts  where  the  lowest  class  of 
peasants  (pagani)  made  their  home.  Fustel  de  Coulanges  (Mo- 
narchic franque,  p.  517)  draws  attention  to  this  urban  propagation  of 
Christianity.  Early  Christianity  like  modern  socialism  spread  through 
the  capitals.  "  Tfiis  contagious  evil,"  Pliny  writes  to  Trajan,  "  has 
spread  not  only  in  the  cities,  but  also  in  the  towns  and  villages." 


Extra-Logical  Influences  229 

ence  of  the  constant  communication  between  the  French  and 
English  courts.  The  courts  were,  therefore,  mutual  centres 
of  light  and  colour.  Through  the  constant  interplay  of  their 
rays  over  national  frontiers,  they  supplied  people  with 
their  first  examples  of  a  certain  kind  of  uniformity.  To-day 
the  capitals,  the  daughters  of  the  courts,  take  their  place. 
In  them  all  eventually  successful  initiatives  are  concentrated, 
towards  them  all  eyes  turn,  and  as  they  are  in  constantly 
reciprocal  relations,  universal  uniformity,  offset  by  a  per- 
petual variability,  must  be  the  result  of  their  prolonged  pre- 
ponderance. Let  me  add  that,  in  their  reciprocal  relations, 
the  movement  of  imitation  from  above  to  below  is  also 
observed.  There  is  always  one  capital  after  which  the 
others  are  likely  to  pattern  themselves  both  at  heart  and  on 
the  surface,  just  as  formerly  there  was  always  one  court 
which  was  the  general  model.  It  is  the  capital  of  the  pre- 
ponderating people,  or  of  the  people  that  had  preponderated 
up  to  the  time  in  question,  just  as  formerly  it  was  the  court 
of  the  victorious  king  or  of  the  king  who  had  been  long 
accustomed  to  victory  in  spite  of  recent  defeats.1 

In  democratic  countries,  as  Tocqueville  remarks,  majori- 
ties, as  well  as  capitals,  have  prestige.  "  As  citizens  become 
more  equal  and  more  alike  the  tendency  of  each  to  blindly 
believe  in  a  given  man  or  class  diminishes.  The  disposition 

1  Preaching,  like  all  other  branches  of  rhetorical  art,  had  fashions 
in  the  past  whose  variety  compensated  for  the  relative  immutability 
of  dogma.  Here  again  the  laws  of  imitation  apply.  When  scholasticism 
came  in  at  the  Sorbonne,  first  the  divines  of  Paris,  then  those  of  the 
provincial  towns,  and  finally  those  of  the  rural  districts,  fell  to  preaching 
according  to  set  argumentative  forms,  and  we  have  to  be  familiar  with 
the  ordinary  force  of  the  currents  of  imitation  to  conceive  how  this  dry. 
and  repellent  manner  of  preaching  could  have  been  established.  Later, 
at  the  polished  court  of  Louis  XIV,  the  preachers,  who  were  by 
this  time  courtiers  and  men  of  the  world  themselves,  adapted  the 
language  of  society  to  their  Advent  or  Lenten  or  other  kinds  of  ser- 
mons ;  and  then  this  reform  spread  little  by  little  from  the  Court 
to  the  Capital,  from  the  Capital  to  the  big  and  then  to  the  smaller 
cities.  But  at  the  time  when  La  Bruyere  wrote,  this  practice  had 
only  begun  to  spread  abroad,  as  we  may  see  from  the  following  remark : 
"  Scholasticism  has  at  last  been  banished  from  all  the  pulpits  of  the 
large  cities  and  relegated  to  towns  and  villages  for  the  instruction  and 
salvation  of  the  labourer  and  wine-dresser." 


230  Laws  of  Imitation 

to  believe  the  masses  increases  and  public  opinion  guides 
society  more  and  more."  Since  the  majority  becomes  the 
real  political  power,  the  universally  recognised  superior,  its 
prestige  is  submitted  to  for  the  same  reason  that  that  of  a 
monarch  or  nobility  was  formerly  bowed  down  to.  But 
there  is  still  another  reason.  "  In  times  of  equality  men  have 
no  faith  in  one  another  because  of  their  mutual  likeness; 
but  this  very  resemblance  inspires  them  with  an  almost  un- 
limited confidence  in  the  judgement  of  the  public;  for  it 
seems  improbable  to  them  that  when  all  have  the  same 
amount  of  light,  the  truth  should  not  be  found  on  the  side 
of  the  greatest  number."  This  appears  logical  and  mathe- 
matical; if  men  are  like  units,  then  it  is  the  greatest  sum  of 
these  units  which  must  be  in  the  right.  But  in  reality  this  is 
an  illusion  are  based  upon  a  constant  oversight  of  the  role 
played  here  by  imitation.  When  an  idea  arises  in  triumph 
from  the  ballot-box  we  should  be  infinitely  less  inclined  to  bow 
down  before  it  if  we  realised  that  nine  hundred  and  ninety- 
nine  thousandths  of  the  votes  that  it  polled  were  but  echoes. 
Even  the  most  careful  historians  are  constantly  misled  by 
this  and  are  inclined  to  enthuse  with  the  crowd  over  the 
unanimity  of  certain  popular  wishes  which  the  people's 
leaders  have  inspired,  as  if  it  were  something  marvellous. 
Unanimities  should  be  greatly  distrusted.  Nothing  is  a  bet- 
ter indication  of  the  intensity  of  the  imitative  impulse. 

Everything,  even  progress  towards  equality,  is  effected 
by  imitation  and  by  the  imitation  of  superior  classes.  Be- 
fore political  and  social  equality  between  all  classes  of  so- 
ciety was  possible  or  even  conceivable,  it  had  to  be  estab- 
lished on  a  small  scale  in  one  of  them.  Now,  it  was 
first  seen  to  occur  on  top.  From  Louis  XI  to  Louis  XVI 
the  different  grades  of  nobility  which  had  formerly,  in  the 
time  of  great  vassals  and  of  pure  feudalism,  been  separated 
by  such  impassable  distances  were  steadily  levelled,  and, 
thanks  to  the  crushing  prestige  of  royalty  and  to  the  com- 
parative multiplicity  of  the  points  of  contact  between  all  men 
of  gentle  birth,  fusion  was  brought  about  even  between 
the  nobility  of  the  sword  and  the  nobility  of  the  gown. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  231 

Now,  strange  to  say,  while  this  levelling  was  being  ac- 
complished on  top,  the  innumerable  sections  of  the  middle 
classes  and  the  common  people  continued  to  hold  aloof 
from  one  another  with  even  intensified  class  vanity  until 
the  eve  of  '89.  Read  Tocqueville  for  an  enumeration,  for 
example,  of  the  different  grades  of  upper,  middle,  and  lower 
middle  classes  in  a  town  of  the  ancient  regime  at  this  date. 
There  was  certainly  more  antagonism  between  the  consuls 
and  the  petty  merchants  of  the  eighteenth  century  than  be- 
tween those  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  apparent  paradox 
may  therefore  be  safely  advanced  that  the  real  preparatory 
work  in  behalf  of  modern  equality  was  carried  on  in  the 
past,  not  by  the  middle  classes,  but  by  the  nobility.  In  this 
respect,  as  well  as  in  the  diffusion  of  philosophic  ideas  and 
in  the  impetus  that  was  given  to  industry  through  a  taste 
for  exotic  fashions,  aristocracy  was  the  unconscious 
mother  of  modern  times.  Moreover,  these  causes  are 
linked  together.  If  the  royal  courts  had  not  levelled  the 
ranks  of  the  nobility,  the  literary  and,  consequently,  the 
philosophic,  radiations  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
centuries  would  not  have  darted  forth,  and  fashion-imitation, 
the  love  of  foreign-bred  innovations,  would  never  have 
prevailed  over  ancestor-imitation  in  the  bosom  of  the  rul- 
ing and  influential  caste.  Consequently,  the  original  centre 
of  all  these  centres  is  the  king.1 

1  Political  manfa,  like  drunkenness,  began  by  being  the  privilege  of 
the  upper  classes.  A  century  ago  this  passion  thrived  among  great 
lords  and  ladies,  and  among  the  scholars  of  the  land,  whereas  the 
people  and  even  the  lower  middle  classes  remained  comparatively 
indifferent  to  this  kind  of  emotion.  In  our  own  day,  the  higher 
classes  and  people  of  education  are  apt  to  take  relatively  little  in- 
terest in  politics  or  to  discuss  them  with  unwarranted  moderation. 
'In  the  conversations  of  fashionable  society  such  questions  occur 
merely  incidentally,  in  the  course  of  gossip,  as  we  may  see  from  the 
insignificant  place  that  they  hold  in  the  journals  which  picture  "  so- 
ciety." But  as  this  passion  for  dangerous  problems  abates  on  top, 
it  descends  and  spreads  from  one  social  level  to  another.  The  time 
will  come  when  a  combination  of  political  mania  and  alcoholism  will 
raise  the  folly  of  the  masses  to  the  highest  pitch.  Of  course,  I  do  not 
wish  to  associate  religious  or  even  superstitious  faith  or  practice 
with  the  above  aberrations.  But  I  may  be  allowed  to  point  out,  as 


232  Laws  of  Imitation 

Thus,  whether  the  social  organisation  be  theocratic,  aris- 
tocratic, or  democratic,  the  course  of  imitation  always  fol- 
lows the  same  law.  It  proceeds,  given  equal  distances, 
from  superior  to  inferior,  and,  in  the  latter,  from 
within  to  without.  One  essential  point  of  difference, 
however,  must  be  noted.  When  the  standard-setting  points 
of  superiority  are  transmitted  by  heredity,  as  in  the  case 
of  the  ancient  nobility  and  in  the  priesthood  of  a  caste 
system,  or  communicated  by  consecration  (a  kind  of  ficti- 
tious heredity  or  adoption),  as  in  the  case  of  acquired 
nobility  and  of  the  Buddhist  and  Christian  priesthood,  they 
are  inherent  in  the  person  himself  considered  under  all 
his  aspects.  The  supposedly  superior  individual  is  copied 
in  all  respects.  He  appears  to  copy  no  one  below  himself, 
and  this  is  approximately  true.  The  relation  of  the  model 
to  the  copy  is,  consequently,  almost  one-sided.  But  when 
for  this  aristocracy  based  on  the  vital  tie  of  real  or  fictitious 
affiliation  an  aristocracy  of  purely  social  factors,  recruited 
by  spontaneous  choice,  is  substituted,  prestige  attaches 
only  to  the  special  aspect  in  which  the  individual  is  prom- 
inent. He  is  imitated  in  this  respect  only,  all  others  are 
overlooked. 

The  man  no  longer  exists  who  is  imitated  in 
every  thing,  and  he  who  is  most  imitated  himself  imi- 

one  of  the  explanations  of  the  religiosity  of  the  masses  of  the  people, 
that  in  very  remote  antiquity  religion  began  by  being  the  exclusive 
luxury  of  a  few  patricians  before  it  became  a  general  and  vulgarised 
need  of  the  plebeians.  j' 

Fortunately  the  passion  for  politics  was  not  the  only  thing  to 
spread  in  this  way;  the  love  of  country  was  spreading  at  the  same 
time.  The  sentiment  of  patriotism  first  arose  in  the  ranks  of  the 
aristocracy,  whence  it  afterwards  passed  down,  little  by  little,  through 
imitation,  to  the  middle  classes  and  to  the  common  people.  On 
this  point  the  democratic  historian,  Perrens,  may  be  credited.  "  The 
sentiment  of  patriotism,"  he  says,  "  was  not  popularised  until  after 
the  Hundred  Years  War,  but  it  had  already  had  a  long  life  among  the 
gentry;  it  had  already  appeared  in  the  twelfth  century  in  the  poems 
which  they  had  inspired.  Douce  France  is  from  that  time  on  a 
favotirite  expression  in  the  poetry  of  chivalry.  After  the  disaster  of 
Poitiers,  it  burst  out  for  a  time  among  the  middle  classes  and  the 
common  people." 


Extra-Logical  Influences  233 

tates,  in  some  particulars,  some  one  of  his  imitators.  Thus 
imitation,  in  becoming  generalised,  has  also  become  mutual- 
ised  and  specialised. 

5.  It  is  not  enough,  however,  to  say  that  imitation 
spreads  from  above  to  below;  I  must  be  more  definite 
about  the  concept  of  the  superiority  in  question.  Shall 
we  say  that  it  is  always  the  higher  political  or  economic 
classes  who  set  the  standard?  It  is  not.  At  those  times, 
for  example,  when  power,  and  with  power  enhanced  facility 
for  acquiring  wealth,  is  in  the  hands  of  the  people's  repre- 
sentatives, the  latter  are  desired  to  be  rather  than  estimated 
to  be  superior  by  those  who  elect  and  elevate  them.  Now,, 
the  privilege  of  having  one's  self  reflected  on  all  sides  be- 
longs to  the  kind  of  superiority  which  is  believed  in,  not 
to  that  which  is  merely  desired.  In  fact,  to  desire  a  man's 
promotion  is  to  realise  that  he  is  not  already  high  up,  and 
that  fact  alone  often  keeps  him  from  having  prestige.  This 
is  the  reason  why  so  many  successful  candidates  have  so 
little  weight  with  their  electors.  But,  in  this  case,  the 
classes  or  persons  who  have  real  prestige  are  those  classes 
that  have  had  power  and  wealth  up  to  a  still  recent  period, 
even  if  they  have  actually  been  despoiled  of  them,  or  those 
persons  who,  through  their  eminent  and  timely  talents,  are 
on  the  road  to  fame  and  fortune.  Again,  when  a  man  has 
been  powerful  or  rich  for  a  long  time,  he  inevitably  wins 
consideration  through  the  conviction  that  gradually  comes 
to  people  that  he  really  deserves  his  advantages.  So,  in 
spite  of  everything,  the  two  ideas  of  power  and  wealth  are 
sure  to  be  connected  with  that  of  social  superiority. 

They  are  connected,  however,  as  effect  to  cause.  It  be- 
hooves us  to  go  back  to  the  cause,  to  learn  what  are  the 
qualities  which  lead  or  have  led  men,  or  groups  of  men,  to 
power  and  wealth  and  which  make  them  the  objects  of 
the  admiration,  envy,  and  imitation  of  their  neighbours. 
In  primitive  times  they  were  physical  vigour  and  skill, 
physical  bravery;  later,  skill  in  war  and  eloquence  in 
council;  still  later,  aesthetic  imagination,  industrial  inge- 
nuity, scientific  genius.  In  brief,  the  superiority  which 


234  Laws  of  Imitation 

is  imitated  is  the  superiority  which  is  understood; 1  and 
that  which  is  understood  is  what  is  believed,  or  seen,  to 
be  conducive  to  benefits  which  are  appreciated  because  they 
satisfy  certain  wants.  I  may  say,  parenthetically,  that  these 
wants  are  derived,  to  be  sure,  from  organic  life,  but  that 
their  social  mould  and  channel  are  made  by  the  example  of 
others.  Sometimes  these  benefits  are  vast  domains,  great 
herds  of  cattle,  numerous  leuds  or  vassals  seated  around 
the  immense  tables  of  their  over-lords,  sometimes  they  are 
capital  cities  and  a  constituency  of  devoted  electors.  Again 
they  may  be  men's  hopes  of  heaven  and  the  credit  they 
are  supposed  to  have  with  great  personages  beyond  the 
grave. 

If  I  am  asked,  What  is  the  series  of  social  superiorities 
which  takes  place  in  the  course  of  civilisation?  I  shall  an- 
swer that  it  depends  upon  that  series  of  social  goods  which 
are  successively  pursued  under  so  many  changing  forms 
by  the  majority  of  men  of  a  given  epoch  and  country. 
Now,  what  impels  and  directs  this  latter  series?  It  is 
the  sequence  of  both  mutually  helpful  and  mutually  hin- 
dering inventions  and  discoveries  which  present  themselves 

1  It  has  been  noticed  that  all  the  Roman  provinces  west  of  the 
Adriatic  (Italy,  Sicily,  Spain,  Gaul,  Germany,  etc.)  were  more  or 
less  easily  Latinised,  and  had  to  adopt  the  laws,  language,  and  cus- 
toms of  Rome;  whereas  in  the  East,  even  after  the  conquest  of 
Greece,  the  Greek  language  and  civilisation  continued  to  hold  their  own 
and  even  to  spread.  This  was  because  the  superiority  of  the  Romans 
was  recognised  by  those  whom  they  had  conquered  in  the  West,  by  the 
Celts,  Iberians,  Germans,  etc.,  whereas  Greek  nationality  refused,  even 
after  its  downfall,  to  confess  itself  inferior  to  the  barbarians  of  the 
Tiber,  and  preserved  its  proud  sentiment  of  intellectual  pre-eminence. 
For  a  like  reason,  the  Gallo-Romans,  who  were  conquered  at  a  later 
date,  refused  to  assimilate  with  the  Germans.  An  entirely  analagous 
thing  occurs  whenever  the  common  people  come  into  power  and  set 
to  imitating  the  manners  and  customs  of  a  fallen  aristocracy  whom 
they  have  always  recognised  as  holding  the  sceptre  of  the  refinements 
of  life.  The  prestige  of  Rome  and  Constantinople,  as  well  as  of 
Athens,  was  magnified  by  their  very  downfall. 

It  is  evident  that  all  the  external  history  of  Rome  is  explained  by 
the  law  of  imitation  from  upper  to  lower.  Its  internal  history  is 
explained  in  the  same  way.  The  Roman  plebs  raised  itself  up  only 
through  copying  the  customs  and  then  the  prerogatives  and  privileges 
of  the  patricians,  beginning  with  legal  marriage. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  235 

one  after  the  other  to  the  human  mind,  in  the  irreversible, 
to  a  certain  extent,  and  inevitable  order  that  is  indicated 
by  social  logic.  The  discovery  of  the  advantage  of  cave 
dwellings,  the  invention  of  stone  weapons,  of  bows  and  ar- 
rows, of  bone  needles,  of  fire  from  the  friction  of  wood,  etc. 
kindled  for  the  first  troglodytes  their  ideal  of  happiness, — 
a  lucky  hunt,  fur  garments,  game  (human,  at  times!) 
eaten  in  the  recesses  of  a  smoke-filled  cave.  Later  on, 
the  discovery  of  certain  ideas  of  natural  history  and  the  im- 
portant and  immensely  fruitful  invention  of  domesticating 
animals  brought  a  change  of  ideal;  great  herds  of  cattle 
under  patriarchal  supervision  was  the  new  dream.  Then 
the  discovery  of  the  first  elements  of  astronomy,  the  inven- 
tion of  domesticating  plants,  i.  e.,  of  agriculture,  the  dis- 
covery of  metals  and  the  invention  of  architecture  made 
possible  a  dream  of  great  domains  peopled  by  slaves  and 
dominated  over  by  a  palace,  the  model  of  houses  to  come. 
Finally,  the  discovery  of  the  sciences,  from  the  nascent 
physics  of  the  Greeks  and  the  babbling  chemistry  of  the 
Egyptians  up  to  our  own  learned  treatises,  and  the  inven- 
tion of  arts  and  industries,  from  the  hymn  to  the  drama 
or  from  the  grindstone  to  the  steam  mill,  made  possible 
the  gradual  building  up  of  the  happiness  of  our  millionaires, 
the  piling  up  of  their  bank  accounts  or  of  their  government 
or  real-estate  securities.  So  much  for  wealth.  As  for 
power,  the  same  considerations  apply  in  the  succession  of 
its  historic  forms. 

In  view  of  these  facts,  a  definite  answer  shapes  itself  to 
the  question  we  are  concerned  with.  The  qualities  which 
make  a  man  superior  in  any  country  and  at  any  period  are 
those  which  enable  him  to  understand  the  group  of  dis- 
coveries and  to  make  use  of  the  group  of  inventions  which 
have  already  appeared.  Sometimes,  quite  often,  in  fact, 
it  is  some  accidental  or  objective  condition  rather  than  per- 
sonal qualities  which  enable  an  individual  to  make  use  of, 
or,  for  a  time,  monopolise  the  leading  inventions  of  his 
day;  and,  in  general,  these  two  factors  are  in  combination. 
Although  the  tribe  or  city  where  a  progressive  idea  or  a 


236  Laws  of  Imitation 

superior  industrial  process  or  a  more  powerful  military 
engine  happens  to  appear,  may  be  inferior  in  race  and 
culture,  yet  it  will  retain  a  monopoly  of  the  novelty  for  a 
long  time.  It  may  have  been  due  to  such  a  change  as  this 
that  the  Turanians  had  the  advantage  throughout  remote 
antiquity  of  being  almost  the  only  people  to  practise  metal- 
lurgy. The  prosperity  of  the  Phoenicians  is  partly  ex- 
plained through  the  discovery  on  their  shores  of  the  little 
purple-producing  shell-fish.  From  this  a  great  maritime 
export-trade  arose  which  was  most  timely  in  encouraging 
the  natural  bent  of  these  Semitic  peoples  towards  naviga- 
tion. The  first  people  to  domesticate  the  elephant  or  horse 
must  have  derived  immense  advantage  from  them  in  war. 
Formerly,  the  mere  fact  of  being  the  son  of  a  father  who 
was  possessed  of  the  natural  qualities  demanded  by  the 
civilisation  of  his  day  was  an  advantageous  condition  which 
stood  in  lieu  of  those  qualities.  The  idea  of  hereditary 
nobility  came  about  in  this  way.1  Finally,  when  a  given 
locality  has  long  held  the  privilege  of  attracting  to  itself 
those  individuals  who  are  the  best  endowed  from  the  point 
of  view  of  contemporary  ambition,  a  presumption  of  supe- 
riority attaches,  as  I  have  said  before,  to  residence  in  that 
place,  and  this  is  one  of  the  most  favourable  circumstances 
for  the  happy  employment  of  the  resources  furnished  by  the 
civilisation  of  the  time.  In  our  own  day,  when  science 
and  industry  are  the  great  bodies  of  discoveries  and  inven- 
tions which  we  must  appropriate  in  order  to  grow  rich,  it 
is  advantageous  to  live  in  .the  great  cities  where  scholars, 
inventors,  and  capitalists  are  concentrated.  This  is  so 
much  the  case  that  it  is  often  enough  for  a  woman  who  is 
a  newcomer  in  a  provincial  town,  to  be  a  Parisian,  to  set 
the  style  in  the  place.  During  the  feudal  period,  when 

1  Let  me  add  that  the  idea  of  nobility  arose  at  a  time  when  the 
physical  and  moral  qualities  that  were  necessary  to  make  use  of  the 
very  simple  military  engines  and  methods  of  the  period  were  readily 
developed  by  proper  training  and  were  easily  transmitted  by  in- 
heritance, much  more  easily  than  the  subtle  characteristics  of  modern 
times.  And  so  the  son  of  a  powerful  warrior  generally  came  to 
have  a  well-founded  reputation  of  his  own. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  237 

the  art  of  war,  which  was  then  the  unique  source  of  terri- 
torial wealth,  was  the  customary  privilege  of  the  lord  of 
the  castle,  the  castle  inmate,  however  lowly  his  station, 
far  outranked  the  citizen.  This  was  not  so  in  Italy,  how- 
ever. There  the  cities  learned  how  to  organise  bodies  of 
militia  to  keep  the  neighbouring  castles  under  control. 
When  the  royal  court  came  to  be  formed,  the  courtiers 
of  Versailles  totally  eclipsed,  for  like  reasons,  the  Notables 
of  Paris,  the  royal  favour  having  become  the  supreme  prize. 

We  must  see  that  social  superiority  always  and  every- 
where cpnsis.t_s_of_Qbjective  circumstances-ar  .o£  subjective 
traits  which  aid  in_the  exploitation  of  existing. discoveries 
and  inventions.  Now  let  us  remove  to  one  side  the  first 
of  these  two  sources  of  superiority  and  turn  our  attention 
to  the  matter  of  subjective  traits.  Here,  undoubtedly,  the 
qualities  which  make  a  man,  or  a  group  of  men,  superior, 
are  always  bodily  characteristics  or  personal  qualities; 
nevertheless,  the  character  of  their  superiority  is  wholly 
social,  since  it  consists  in  their  pre-eminent  aptitude  to  carry 
out  the  objects  of  social  thought.  From  the  very  begin- 
nings of  humanity,  when  physical  force  is  supposed  to  have 
ruled  superior,  the  successful  savage  was  not  the  most  vig- 
orous one;  he  was  the  most  agile  one,  the  one  most  skil- 
ful in  handling  bow  and  club  and  sling,  in  cutting  stone. 
Nowadays  it  is  useless  for  a  man  to  be  muscular  and  well- 
proportioned ;  unless  he  also  possesses  that  cerebral  hy- 
pertrophy which  was  once  abnormal  and  disastrous,  but 
which  is  now  normally  exacted  by  the  exigencies  of  our 
civilisation,  he  is  condemned  to  defeat.  Between  these 
two  extremes  there  is,  perhaps,  no  peculiarity  of  race  or 
temperament,  no  morbid  or  monstrous  trait  which  has  not 
had  its  day  of  glory  and  expansion.  Were  we  not  surprised 
by  the  bestial  although  royal  and  authoritative  type  of  the 
recently  unearthed  Rameses  the  Great?  How  many  of 
our  instinctive  criminals  would  have  been  heroes  in  other 
days!  How  many  madmen  would  have  had  statues  and 
altars  erected  to  them ! 

But  through  this  oscillating  multiformity,  which  explains 


Laws  of  Imitation 

0.  fc*  the  partly  fortuitous  character  of  inventions  and  discoveries, 
it  is  easy  to  remark,  on  the  whole,  the  gradual  decline 
of  aptitudes  that  are  muscular  rather  than  nervous  and  the 
concomitant  progress  of  aptitudes  that  are  nervous  rather 
than  muscular.  The  countryman  is  muscular;  the  citizen 
is  nervous;  the  same  distinction  exists  between  the  civilised 
and  the  uncivilised  man.  Why  is  this?  There  are  two 
reasons.  In  the  first  place,  social  logic  eliminates  a  smaller 
number  of  contradictory  discoveries  and  inventions  than 
the  number  of  the  consistent  ones  which  it  accumulates; 
and  the  resulting  excess  of  complexity  necessitates  a  more 
highly  developed  cerebral  capacity  and  a  more  perfect  cere- 
bral organisation.  In  the  second  place,  the  accumulation  of 
mechanical  inventions  puts  an  increasing  number  of  animal, 
chemical,  and  physical  forces  at  the  disposition  of  man  and 
frees  him  day  by  day  from  having  to  reinforce  them  with 
muscular  labour.1 

Racial  or  individual  differentiation  is,  we  see,  like  a 
musical  instrument  upon  which  inventive  genius  is  free  to 
play  under  the  general  guidance  of  social  logic.  This  has 
an  important  corollary  for  historians.  If  you  are  seeking 
the  cause  of  a  people's  prosperity  or  decay  you  must  look 
for  it  in  the  peculiarities  of  its  organism  which  rendered 
it  particularly  fit  to  make  use  of  contemporaneous  knowl- 
edge, or  in  the  appearance  of  new  knowledge  which  it  was 
not  physically  able  to  utilise  as  it  had  its  old  knowledge. 
If  the  elements  of  a  civilisation  are  given  and  you  wish  to 
describe  with  accuracy  its  parent  race,  on  its  mental  side, 
at  any  rate,  the  same  principle  will  serve  as  a  guide.  In 
this  way  we  have  been  able,  instinctively,  to  describe  the 
psychology  of  the  primitive  Etruscan  or  Babylonian.  A 

1  From  this  it  follows  that  everywhere,  at  any  given  moment  in 
history,  the  superior  classes  belong  to  races  that  are  more  mixed  and 
complex  and  artificial  than  those  of  the  inferior  classes.  In  Egypt, 
the  fellah  has  remained  like  the  ancient  Egyptians,  whereas  his  mas- 
ters have  fallen  away  from  the  ancient  type.  The  higher  the  class, 
the  more  extensive  its  matrimonial  market.  The  higher  you  mount 
in  the  ranks  of  the  old  French  nobility,  the  more  scattered  do  you 
find  its  marriages.  The  royal  family  was  at  the  top  and  it  had  all 
Europe  for  its  matrimonial  domain. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  239 

people  who  were  marvellously  gifted  for  the  chase  and  whose 
very  agility  and  more  brilliant  parts  unfitted  them  for  pas- 
toral occupations,  had  inevitably,  in  spite  of  their  vigour,  to 
succumb  in  a  pastoral  period,  just  as  nowadays,  in  our  in- 
dustrial cities  the  old-fashioned  poetic  or  artistic  tempera- 
ment succumbs.  In  general,  the  advent  of  some  new  race 
corresponds  to  every  fresh  influx  of  important,  civilisation- 
shaping  inventions.  It  may  be  because  the  established  race 
was  born  without  the  traits  required  in  the  exploitation  of 
the  rising  ideas,  or,  because,  although  it  may  once  have 
have  had  these  traits,  it  has  come  to  lose  them  while  it  was 
controlled  by  its  old  ideas.  Every  established  civilisation 
ends  by  creating  its  own  race.  Our  own  civilisation,  for 
example,  is  engaged  in  shaping  for  itself  the  American  of 
the  future. 

Let  me  conclude  with  the  observation  that  the  social 
peaks,  the  classes  or  nations  which  are  most  imitated  by 
others,  are  those  within  which  the  greatest  amount  of  re- 
ciprocal imitation  goes  on.  Great  modern  cities  are  char- 
acterised by  the  intensity  of  their  imitation  of  internal 
things;  it  is  proportionate  to  the  density  of  their  population 
and  to  the  multiform  multiplicity  of  the  relations  of  their 
inhabitants.  This,  as  M.  Bordier  justly  remarks,  accounts 
for  the  "  epidemic  and  contagious  "  nature  of  their  fashions 
and  vices,  as  well  as  of  their  maladies  and  of  all  the  striking 
phenomena  which  occur  in  them.  Formerly,  the  aristo- 
cratic classes,  especially  the  royal  courts,  were  distinguished 
by  this  same  characteristic.1 

6.  The  law  which  I  have  been  developing  is  certainly 
very  simple;  but  I  think  that  if  we  do  not  lose  it  from 
view  certain  points  of  history  which  have  hitherto  been  ob- 
scure may  be  cleared  up.  To  cite  one  only,  what  is  more 
shadowy  than  the  formation  of  the  feudal  system  during  the 
Merovingian  and  Carolingian  period?  In  spite  of  the  ser- 
vice of  Fustel  de  Coulanges  in  throwing  light  upon  this 
subject  by  revealing  the  Roman  origins  of  many  alleged 
German  institutions,  many  sides  of  the  question  are  still 

1  See  Vie  des  societes,  p.  159. 


240  Laws  of  Imitation 

obscure,  and  I  certainly  do  not  pretend  to  scatter  all  theil' 
shadows.  But  I  take  the  liberty  of  pointing  out  to  his- 
torians who  are  throwing  light  upon  these  dark  places 
that  among  other  things  they  may  have  failed  to  suffi- 
ciently reckon  with  the  examples  set  by  the  Merovingian 
king  and  the  inevitable  radiations  of  these  examples.  The 
majority  of  historians  have  not  taken  the  trouble  to  notice 
that  the  feudal  tie  of  the  lord  to  his  vassal  as  it  was  con- 
stituted and  generalised  in  the  ninth  and  tenth  centuries 
is  strangely  like  the  relation  between  the  king  and  his  an- 
trustions  as  it  existed  in  some  of  the  royal  palaces  during 
the  fifth  and  sixth  centuries.  If  historians  have  noted 
this  fact,  they  have  not  classified  it  properly.  The  antrus- 
tion  is  devoted  body  and  soul  to  his  king,  like  a  vassal 
to  his  lord,  in  return  for  the  protection  which  shields  him. 
In  the  beginning,  to  be  sure,  the  antrustionship  is  tempo- 
rary, but  it  soon  becomes  hereditary  and  proprietary  as  well. 
M.  Glasson  writes  that  "  land  grants  were  at  an  early  time 
attached  to  the  antrustionship,  and  this  dignity  was  trans- 
mitted from  father  to  son  long  before  the  capitulary  of 
Kiersy  recognised  the  hereditary  character  of  benefices  and 
offices."  Thus,  the  two  main  features  of  feudalism,  in- 
heritance and  land-tenure,  existed  in  the  case  of  the  an- 
trustion  before  existing  in  the  case  of  the  beneficiary.  Is  it 
not  natural  to  see  in  the  latter  a  manifolded  copyist  of  the 
former,  and  for  the  same  reason  to  consider  the  beneficiaries 
of  beneficiaries,  the  petty  vassals  of  a  great  vassal,  as  new 
imitative  editions  of  the  same  model  ? 1  It  is  a  con- 
troverted question,"  as  M.  Glasson  puts  it,  "  whether  the 
king  alone  had  antrustions  or  whether  the  great  nobles  were 


1  This  attempt  to  solve  the  problem  of  feudalism  must  not  be  con- 
founded with  an  hypothesis  which  has  been  put  forth  concerning  the 
origin  of  the  nobility.  It  has  been  queried  whether  the  Prankish 
nobility  is  not  derived,  physiologically,  from  the  antrustions.  M. 
Glasson  denies  this,  and,  apparently,  with  reason.  Nobles  are  born 
(in  the  vital  meaning  of  the  word)  from  royal  functionaries  whose 
functions  have  become  hereditary.  This  does  not  preclude  the  fact 
that  in  gaining  the  inheritance  they  must  have  thought  of  the 
antrustions  and  desired  to  have  them  themselves. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  241 

also  entitled  to  have  them.  In  my  opinion  no  decisive 
reason  can  be  given  on  one  side  or  the  other."  But  how 
can  we  admit  that  the  nobles  could  have  withstood  the  de- 
sire to  have  the  same  kind  of  body-guards  as  those  of  their 
monarch  ?  Call  to  mind  La  Fontaine's  line :  "  Every  petty 
prince  has  his  ambassadors."  The  oath  of  homage  and  al- 
legiance is  another  characteristic  of  the  feudal  tie;  and  is 
it  not  a  multiplied  copy  of  the  oath  of  fidelity  pledged  to 
the  Merovingian  kings  by  their  subjects?  There  is  nothing 
analogous  to  this  oath  under  the  Roman  Empire.  It  would 
have  been  very  surprising  if  this  peculiar  custom  had  not 
made  an  impression,  and  if,  later  on,  when  suzerains  had 
come  to  exact  the  same  kind  of  an  oath  from  their  followers, 
it  had  not  been  the  thing  to  suggest  this  idea  to  them. 
Finally,  is  not  the  origin  of  most  of  the  feudal  rights  ex- 
plained quite  naturally  by  certain  of  the  imposts  or  rents 
that  were  the  dues  of  the  Merovingian  monarch?  M. 
Glasson  says,  for  example,  that  "  the  custom  of  making 
gifts  to  the  king  under  certain  circumstances,  notably  on 
the  occasion  of  fetes  or  marriages,  already  existed  under 
the  Merovingians.  .  .  .  The  first  Carolingians  regulated 
this  custom  and  changed  these  gifts  into  a  direct  tax."  * 
Now,  later  on  "  under  feudalism,  the  nobles  exacted  similar 
gifts  from  their  vassals'' z  on  precisely  the  same  kind  of 
occasions.  Is  not  this  significant?  Why  should  not  these 
royal  examples  have  been  imitated  when  it  is  known  that  so 
many  others  were  imitated,  especially  those  which  help  to 
explain  to  us  the  characteristics  taken  on  by  mediaeval  serf- 
dom? It  has  been  asked  how  it  was  that  the  serf  of  the 
Merovingian  period,  from  whom  his  master  could  exact 
almost  arbitrarily  any  service  whatsoever,  came  to  evolve 
into  the  serf  of  the  eleventh  century  from  whom  only  a 
fixed  quit-rent  could  be  demanded?  The  answer  has  been 
made  in  drawing  attention  to  the  fact  that  this  substitution 
of  a  fixed  for  an  arbitrary  arrangement  began  by  being  an 

1  [Histoire  du  droit  et  des  institutions  de  la  France,  II,  482.     E. 
Glasson,  Paris,  1888.— Tr.] 
»[/&»</.,  II,  483-— Tr.] 


242  Laws  of  Imitation 

innovation  in  the  royal  and  ecclesiastical  domains.  To 
quote  again  from  the  learned  author  I  have  already  cited, 
"  the  nobles  imitated  the  Church,  the  abbeys,  and  the  king 
in  all  their  acts,  and  the  quit-rent  tended  to  become  a  fixed 
charge  everywhere." 

Fustel  de  Coulanges  is  too  clear-sighted  to  have  altogether 
misinterpreted  the  importance  of  the  antrustions.  In  his 
Origines  du  systeme  feodal,  where  he  studies  minutely  the 
Roman,  Gothic,  and  German  sources  of  feudalism,  he  dedi- 
cates a  few  pages,  but  only  a  few,  to  the  king's  trust  in 
the  midst  of  long  chapters  upon  the  Roman  precarium,  upon 
benefices,  patronage,  etc.  It  is  a  pity,  in  my  humble  opin- 
ion, that  he  puts  the  first  of  these  subjects  in  the  same  or, 
in  fact,  in  a  considerably  lower  rank  than  the  others,  and  I 
think  that  he  would  have  escaped  this  error  had  he  reckoned 
upon  the  universal  tendency  of  men  to  copy  one  another, 
and,  above  all,  had  he  considered  the  particularly  contagious 
nature  of  royal  example  in  all  periods  of  history.  To  be 
sure,  the  Roman  precarium  and  even  the  various  kinds  of 
benefice  and  patronage,  Germanic,  Roman,  or  Gallic,  are 
merely  modes  of  land  appropriation  and  of  personal  sub- 
jection; they  are  without  any  military  character  and,  in 
general,  they  lack  the  religious  sanction  of  the  oath.  Those 
customs  are  undoubtedly  the  conditions  and  even  the  very 
roots  of  the  feudal  tie,  but  they  do  not  constitute  it.  They 
are  too  trivial  and  too  widespread  among  the  most  diverse 
nations  to  explain  adequately  one  of  the  most  original 
forms  of  society  that  the  world  has  ever  seen.  Only  when 
these  different  sources  met  in  a  single  current  in  the  court 
of  the  Merovingian  king,  in  a  military  and  sacramental 
setting,  did  the  germ  of  feudalism  really  expand.  Our 
eminent  historian  seems  to  almost  recognise  this  in  the  fol- 
lowing remarkable  passage  (p.  332)  :  "  We  already  find 
here,"  he  says,  in  concluding  his  over-short  chapter  on  the 
royal  trust,  "  certain  features  which  will  persist  in  feudalism. 
In  the  first  place  we  find  as  essentials,  the  oath  and  the  con- 
tract; we  also  find  that  the  oath  is  taken  in  its  characteristic 
form,  upon  the  hand  of  the  chief,  sword  at  side.  Finally, 


Extra-Logical  Influences  243 

we  find  certain  terms  which  are  also  characteristic,  the 
terms  trusty  man  [fidele],  friend,  peer,  and,  in  particular, 
the  Germanic  term  which  corresponds  to  the  term  man 
[homme]."  The  italics  are  mine.  Truly,  I  cannot  conceive 
why  the  author  did  not  attach  more  importance  later  on  to 
such  striking  analogies.  We  shall  reread  his  book  in  vain 
to  find  anything  in  all  his  careful  analyses  of  other  institu- 
tions which  is  anywhere  near  as  closely  suggestive  of  feud- 
alism. 

Only  one  feature,  I  repeat,  is  lacking  in  this  picture  of 
perfect  resemblance.  The  title  of  antrustion  is  purely  in- 
dividual, it  is  not  inherited.  A  man  becomes  a  king's  an- 
trustion by  spontaneous  agreement.  The  title  of  vassal  in 
the  tenth  century  is,  on  the  contrary,  hereditary,  and  al- 
though the  necessity  of  new  investiture  with  every  genera- 
tion, through  the  plighting  of  a  new  oath  of  homage 
and  allegiance,  is  recognised,  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  merely 
testifies  to  the  original  voluntary  and  contractual  nature 
of  a  tie  which  has  eventually  come  to  be  innate  and  heredi- 
tary. This  difference  is  explained  by  another  law  of  imita- 
tion which  we  are  about  to  discuss,  the  law  by  which  fashion 
entrenches  itself  as  custom,  i.  e.,  the  hereditary  consolida- 
tion of  what  began  by  spreading  itself  contagiously  from 
contemporary  to  contemporary. 

After  all,  the  preceding  historical  hypothesis  is  only 
offered  as  a  specimen  of  the  services  which,  in  more  skilful 
and  scholarly  hands,  might  be  rendered  by  the  application 
of  the  general  ideas  which  we  have  been  developing. 


CHAPTER  VII 

EXTRA-LOGICAL  INFLUENCES   (CONTINUED) 

Custom  and  Fashion 

THE  presumption  of  superiority  which  recommends  one 
among  a  thousand  examples  of  equal  logical  value,  attaches 
not  only  to  the  persons,  classes,  and  localities  from  which 
the  example  emanates,  but  to  the  time  of  its  origin  as  well. 
I  intend  to  devote  this  chapter  to  a  consideration  of  this  last- 
named  order  of  influences.  It  is,  we  see,  only  a  consequence 
of  the  law  of  the  imitation  of  the  superior,  looked  at  under  a 
fresh  aspect.  Let  us  begin  by  laying  down  the  principle  that 
even  in  societies  which  are,  like  our  own,  the  most  over-run 
with  foreign  and  contemporary  (thus  doubly  accredited) 
literature,  institutions,  ideas,  and  turns  of  speech,  ancestral 
prestige  still  immensely  outweighs  the  prestige  of  these 
recent  innovations.  Let  us  compare  some  of  the  few 
English,  German,  and  Russian  words  that  have  recently 
been  popularised,  with  the  foundations  of  our  old  French 
vocabulary;  some  of  the  fashionable  theories  on  evolution 
or  pessimism  with  the  mass  of  our  ancient  traditional  con- 
victions; our  present-day  reform  legislation  with  the  bulk 
of  our  codes,  whose  fundamental  points  are  as  ancient  as 
Roman  law;  and  so  on.  Imitation,  then,  that  is  engaged  in 
the  currents  of  fashion  is  but  a  very  feeble  stream  compared 
with  the  great  torrent  of  custom.  And  this  must  necessarily 
be  so.1  But,  however  slender  this  stream  may  be,  its 

1  Just  as  from  the  social  point  of  view,  or,  at  least,  from  the  point 
of  view  of  temporary,  if  not  lasting,  social  peace,  it  is  much  more 
important  that  beliefs  should  be  held  in  common  than  that  they  should 
be  true, — hence  the  supreme  importance  of  religions ; — so,  from  the 

244 


Extra-Logical  Influences  245 

work  of  inundation  or  irrigation  is  considerable,  and  it 
behoves  us  to  study  its  periodic  rises  and  falls  in  the  very 
irregular  kind  of  rhythm  in  which  they  occur. 

In  all  countries  a  certain  kind  of  revolution  is  gradually 
effected  in  people's  minds.  The  habit  of  taking  on  faith 
one's  priests  and  one's  ancestors  is  superseded  by  the  habit 
of  repeating  the  words  of  contemporary  innovators.  This 
is  called  substituting  the  spirit  of  investigation  for  cre- 
dulity. Actually,  it  is  merely  a  welcoming  of  foreign  and 
persuasive  ideas  following  upon  a  blind  acceptance  of  tra- 
ditional and  authoritative  affirmations.  By  persuasion  is 
meant  the  apparent  agreement  of  these  foreign  ideas  with 
those  that  are  already  established  in  dogmatic  minds,  that  is, 
with  dogmatic  ideas.  The  difference,  we  see,  does  not  lie  in 
the  voluntary  or  non- voluntary  nature  of  the  acceptance.  If 
traditional  affirmations  are  accepted,  I  will  not  say  more 
freely,  but  more  quickly  and  vigorously,  by  the  mind  of  the 
child,  and  are  imposed  upon  it  through  authority,  not 
through  persuasion,  it  means  that  the  mind  of  the  child  was 
a  tabula  rasa  when  the  dogmas  came  into  it,  and  that  to  be 
received  they  had  neither  to  confirm  nor  contradict  any 

same  point  of  view,  the  important  thing  in  the  matter  of  public  in- 
struction is  the  common,  much  more  than  the  useful,  nature  of  knowl- 
edge; or,  rather,  the  principal  utility  of  knowledge  consists  in  its 
being  common  property,  consists  in  its  very  diffusion.  It  is  cer- 
tainly easy  to  prove  that  the  teaching  of  Greek  and  Latin  is  not  the 
most  useful  thing  in  relation  to  human  wants  (aside  from  the  want 
which  we  are  about  to  discuss),  any  more  than  such  and  such  re- 
ligious dogmas  are  among  the  things  of  which  we  have  the  best 
proofs.  The  only  advantage,  but  it  is  a  big  one,  of  maintaining  this 
instruction,  is  in  not  breaking  the  chain  between  generations,  in  not  cut- 
ting ourselves  off  too  sharply  and  too  utterly  from  our  forefathers 
and  from  each  other;  in  conforming  ourselves  as  members  of  an 
educated  class  to  one  another  and  to  our  forebears  in  order  that, 
united  by  the  tie  of  imitating  the  same  model,  we  shall  not  fail  to 
form  one  single  society.  Although  a  youth  might  possess  much  truer 
and  much  more  valuable  knowledge  than  our  collegiate  students,  if 
he  did  not  know  what  they  knew,  he  would  be  socially  estranged 
from  them.  This  is,  at  bottom,  the  real  and  inner  reason,  whether 
avowed  or  unconscious,  why,  even  in  spite  of  unanimous  criticism, 
respect  for  so  many  archaic  things  persists.  There  is  no  stronger 
confirmation  than  this  of  the  conception  of  the  social  tie  that  has 
been  brought  out  in  this  book. 


246  Laws  of  Imitation 

idea  that  was  already  established  there.  They  had  only  to 
arouse  fresh  curiosity,  and  to  give  it  indifferent  satisfaction. 
This  is  the  whole  difference.  It  follows  that  the  authorita- 
tive form  of  impression  must  have  necessarily  preceded  the 
persuasive  form,  and  that  the  latter  is  an  outcome  of  the 
former. 

Similarly,  in  every  country,  a  like  revolution  occurs  in  the 
case  of  people's  volitions.  Passive  obedience  to  ancestral 
orders,  customs,  and  influence,  comes  to  be  not  replaced,  but 
neutralised  in  part,  by  submission  to  the  pressure,  advice, 
and  suggestions  of  contemporaries.  In  acting  according 
to  these  last-named  motives,  the  modern  man  flatters  himself 
that  he  is  making  a  free  choice  of  the  propositions  that  are 
made  to  him,  whereas,  in  reality,  the  one  that  he  welcomes 
and  follows  is  the  one  that  meets  his  pre-existent  wants  and 
desires,  wants  and  desires  which  are  the  outcome  of  his 
habits  and  customs,  of  his  whole  past  of  obedience. 

The  epochs,  and  societies  in  which  the  prestige  of  an- 
tiquity rules  exclusively  are  those  where,  as  in  ancient  Rome, 
antiquity  means,  in  addition  to  its  proper  sense,  some  be- 
loved object.  Nihil  mihi  antiquius  est,  nothing  is  dearer  to 
me,  said  Cicero.  In  China  and  Siberia1  you  tell  the  passer- 
by, to  please  him,  that  he  looks  aged,  and  your  interlocutor 
is  deferentially  addressed  as  elder  brother.  The  epochs  and 
the  societies  which  are,  on  the  contrary,  controlled  by  the 
prestige  of  novelty  are  those  where  it  is  proverbial  to  say 
that  everything  new  is  admirable.  And  yet  the  traditional 
and  customary  element  is  always,  I  repeat,  preponderant  in 
social  life,  and  this  preponderance  is  forcibly  revealed  in  the 
way  in  which  the  most  radical  and  revolutionary  innova- 
tions spread  abroad;  for  their  supporters  can  further  them 
only  through  oratorical  or  literary  talent,  through  superior 
handling  of  language,  not  of  scientific,  or  philosophic,  or 
technical  language,  all  bristling  with  new  terms,  but  of  the 
old  and  antique  language  of  the  people,  so  well  known  to 

1  See  Dostoiesky's  Maison  des  marts.  And  so  in  Siberia,  in  speaking 
of  a  man  twenty  years  old,  they  say :  "  My  respects  to  old  man  so- 
and-so." 


Extra-Logical  Influences  247 

Luther  and  Voltaire  and  Rousseau.  The  old  ground  is 
always  the  vantage-point  from  which  to  tumble  down  old 
edifices  and  to  rear  up  new  ones.  The  established  morality 
is  always  the  basis  for  the  introduction  of  new  political 
ideas. 

It  seems  as  if  I  ought  to  cross-classify  the  foregoing 
distinctions  between  imitation  of  a  native  and  ancient  model 
and  imitation  of  a  new  and  foreign  model.  Is  it  not  pos- 
sible for  both  the  ancient  and  the  novel  models  to  have 
prestige,  although  the  former  is  neither  native,  nor  the 
latter  foreign  to  either  family  or  city?  This  may  be  so,  of 
course,  but  it  is  such  a  rare  occurrence  that  it  is  not  worth 
the  trouble  of  making  the  distinction.  Those  epochs  whose 
byword  is  "  everything  new  is  admirable  "  are  essentially 
externalised — on  the  surface,  at  least,  for  we  know  that  in 
reality  they  are  more  deeply  penetrated  than  they  think  for 
by  ancestral  religion;  and  those  epochs  whose  unique 
maxim  is  "  everything  antique  is  good,"  live  a  life  wholly 
from  within.  When  we  no  longer  venerate  the  past  of 
our  family  or  city  we  cease,  a  fortiori,  to  venerate  every 
other  past,  and  the  present  alone  seems  to  inspire  us  with 
respect.  Inversely,  when  it  is  only  necessary  to  be  blood- 
kindred  or  compatriots,  to  be  considered  equals,  the  stranger 
alone  seems  to  produce  as  a  rule  that  impression  of  respect 
which  leads  to  imitation.  Remoteness  in  space  acts  here 
like  the  remoteness  in  time  in  the  former  case.  In  periods 
when  custom  is  in  the  ascendant,  men  are  more  infatuated 
about  their  country  than  about  their  time;  for  it  is  the  past 
which  is  pre-eminently  praised.  In  ages  when  fashion 
rules,  men  are  prouder,  on  the  contrary,  of  their  time  than 
of  their  country. 

Is  the  revolution  to  which  I  have  referred  universal  and 
necessary?  It  is,  for  the  reason  that  independently  of  any 
contact  with  alien  civilisation,  a  given  people  within  a  given 
territory  must  inevitably  continue  to  grow  in  numbers,  and 
must  no  less  inevitably  progress  in  consequence  towards 
urban  life.  Now,  this  progress  causes  the  nervous  excita- 
bility which  develops  aptitude  for  imitation.  Primitive 


248  Laws  of  Imitation 

rural  communities  can  only  imitate  their  fathers,  and  so 
they  acquire  the  habit  of  ever  turning  towards  the  past,  be- 
cause the  only  period  of  their  life  in  which  they  are  open  to 
the  impressions  of  a  model  is  their  infancy,  the  age  that  is 
characterised  by  nervous  susceptibility,  and  because,  as  chil- 
dren, they  are  under  paternal  rule.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
nervous  plasticity  and  openness  to  impressions  of  adults  in 
cities  is  in  general  well  enough  preserved  to  permit  them  to 
continue  to  model  themselves  upon  new  types  brought  in 
from  outside. 

In  contradiction  to  this  view  may  be  cited  the  example 
of  nomadic  peoples  like  the  Tartars,  Arabs,  etc.,  who  appear 
for  many  centuries  past  to  have  been  irrevocably  tradition- 
bound.  But  perhaps,  or,  rather,  undoubtedly,  their  present 
state  of  immobility  is  the  end  of  the  historic  cycle  which 
they  had  to  traverse,  the  equilibrium  which  they  have 
reached  at  the  close  of  the  anterior  stages  in  which  their 
semi-civilisation  was  formed  by  means  of  successive  impor- 
tations. In  fact,  the  corresponding  involution  of  the  revolu- 
tion we  have  discussed  is  no  less  necessary.  Man  escapes, 
and  then  but  partly,  from  the  yoke  of  custom,  only  to  fall 
under  it  again,  that  is,  to  fix  and  consolidate,  in  falling 
under  it  again,  the  conquests  due  to  his  temporary  emanci- 
pation. If  he  is  full  of  genius  and  vitality,  he  escapes  again 
and  makes  new  conquests,  only  to  pause  for  the  second  time, 
and  so  on.  These  are  the  historic  somersaults  of  the  great 
peoples  of  civilisation.  There  is  a  notable  proof  of  this  in 
the  fact  that  the  progress  of  urban  life  is  not  continuous; 
after  accesses  of  fever  like  that  which  is  now  raging 
through  Europe,  it  suffers  intermittent  setbacks  and  lets 
rural  life  develop  again  at  its  expense.  This  development 
takes  place  in  all  manner  of  ways,  not  only  in  the  numerical 
increase  of  scattered  rural  and  village  communities,  but, 
likewise,  in  the  increase  of  wealth  and  welfare  and  en- 
lightment  outside  of  the  great  centres.  A  mature  civili- 
sation like  China,  for  example,  or  ancient  Egypt,  or  the  Peru 
of  the  Incas  (  ?),  or  feudal  Europe  in  the  twelfth  century,. 
is  always  essentially  rural  in  the  sense  that  the  general  level 


Extra-Logical  Influences  249 

of  its  cities  remains  static,  while  that  of  its  country  districts 
continues  to  rise.  Our  own  Europe,  according  to  all  proba- 
bilities, and  in  spite  of  the  apparent  unlikelihood  of  this 
hypothesis,  is  bound  towards  a  like  goal. 

But  this  final  return  from  the  spirit  of  fashion  to  that  of 
custom  is  in  no  sense  a  retrogression.  In  order  to  thor- 
oughly understand  it,  it  is  necessary  to  throw  some  light  on 
the  analogies  presented  by  animate  nature.  Let  us  note  that 
each  of  the  three  great  forms  of  universal  repetition,  vibra- 
tion, reproduction,  and  imitation,  is  at  first  tied  Up  with  and 
subservient  to  the  form  from  which  it  sprang,  but  that  it 
soon  tends  to  escape  and,  then,  to  subordinate  the  latter  to 
itself.  Among  the  vegetal  and  the  lowest  animal  species  we 
see  that  reproduction  is  the  slave  of  vibration.  Their  vital- 
ity, in  its  alternating  periods  of  torpor  and  revival,  follows 
closely  upon  changes  of  season,  upon  solar  light  and! 
heat,  whose  ethereal  vibrations  stimulate  the  vibrating  mole- 
cules of  organic  substances.  But  as  life  evolves,  it  consents 
less  docilely  to  turn  like  a  top  under  the  whip  of  the  sun's 
rays;  and,  although  it  can  never  escape  from  the  enforced 
flagellation,  it  gradually  transforms  it  into  a  regulative 
thing.  Thanks  to  various  processes  which  permit  it  to  store 
up  the  products  of  solar  radiation,  it  succeeds  in  holding  in 
reserve  certain  internal  explosives  and  combustibles  which 
are  always  ready  for  the  nervous  system  to  use.  Life  sets 
them  off  and  burns  them  up  at  its  own  pleasure,  not  at  that 
of  the  seasons,  in  order  to  give  itself  the  vibratory  stimulus 
that  is  indispensable  to  muscular  effort,  to  flying,  to  jump- 
ing, to  fighting.  A  moment  comes  when  life  not  only  does 
not  depend  upon  physical  forces,  i.  e.,  the  great  currents  of 
ethereal  or  molecular  vibrations  and  the  combustions  which  - 
generate  them,  but,  in  large  measure,  controls  them.  Man, 
who  even  in  the  most  extreme  types  of  civilisation,  remains 
a  simple  living  being,  changes  night  into  day,  winter  into 
summer,  the  north  into  the  south,  with  his  street  lights,  his 
furnaces,  and  his  locomotives,  and  renders  subject  to  him- 
self, one  after  the  other,  all  the  vibratory  energies  of  nature, 
heat,  electricity,  and  even  the  light  of  the  sun. 


250  Laws  of  Imitation 

Generation  seems  to  me  to  hold  analogous  relations  to 
imitation.  In  the  beginning,  it  is  likewise  fitting  that  the 
latter  should  timidly  attach  itself  to  the  former,  like  a  child 
to  its  parent.  And  we  see  that  in  all  very  primitive  societies 
the  privileges  of  being  believed  in  and  obeyed,  and  of  set- 
ting the  example,  are  connected  with  the  function  of 
procreation.  The  father  is  imitated  because  he  is  the 
procreator.  If  an  invention  is  to  be  imitated,  it  must  be 
adopted  by  the  pater  familias,  and  the  domain  in  which  it 
can  spread  terminates  with  the  limits  of  the  family.  The 
family  must  multiply  for  it  to  continue  to  spread.  Because 
?af  the  same  principle  or  the  same  connection  of  ideas,  the 
transmission  of  sacerdotal  or  monarchical  power  is  con- 
ceived of,  at  a  less  remote  period,  as  possible  only  by  way  of 
inheritance,  and  the  vital  principle  regulates  the  course  of 
the  social  principle.  Then  every  race  has  its  own  language, 
its  own  religion,  its  own  legislation,  and  its  own  nationality. 
Parenthetically,  I  may  say  that  the  desire  in  our  own  day 
to  give  an  exorbitant  historical  importance  to  the  idea  of 
race  is  a  sort  of  anachronism — a  naturalistic  point  of  view 
which  can  only  be  explained  by  the  remarkable  progress  of 
the  natural  sciences. 

But,  from  the  very  beginning,  every  discovery  or  inven- 
tion feels  itself  cramped  within  the  limits  of  the  family 
or  tribe,  or  even  within  those  of  the  race,  and  seeks  expan- 
sion by  a  less  lengthy  method  than  the  procreation  of  chil- 
dren; and,  from  time  to  time,  some  invention  will  burst  its 
bounds  and  cause  itself  to  be  imitated  outside,  thereby 
making  a  road  for  others.  This  tendency  of  imitation  to 
free  itself  from  reproduction  hides,  at  first,  under  the  in- 
genious mask  of  the  latter,  under  the  fiction  of  adoption, 
for  example,  or  naturalisation  of  foreigners,  adoption  by 
the  nation.  It  manifests  itself  more  boldly  in  the  admission 
of  aliens  to  national  worship  (the  admission  of  the  Gentiles, 
for  example,  to  the  Jewish  and  Christian  rites  after  the  time 
of  St.  Paul),  in  the  appearance  of  so-called  proselyting 
religions,  in  the  substitution  of  an  elective  or  consecrated 
priesthood  for  an  hereditary  priesthood  or  of  an  elective 


Extra-Logical  Influences  251 

presidency  for  hereditary  rulership,  in  the  power  accorded 
to  the  lower  classes  to  participate  in  the  honours  of  the 
upper  classes  (the  honour  accorded  to  the  plebeians,  for 
example,  of  becoming  praetors  or  consuls  like  the  patri- 
cians), in  people's  growing  eagerness  to  learn  foreign  lan- 
guages or  to  learn  the  ruling  dialect  of  their  own  country 
to  the  neglect  of  the  local  patois,  and  to  copy  every  striking 
peculiarity  in  the  customs,  arts,  and  institutions  of 
foreigners. 

Finally,  the  social  principle  becomes  despotic  in  turn,  and 
dominates,  in  its  emancipation,  the  vital  principle.  At  first 
a  feeble  body  of  inventions,  an  embryonic  civilisation,  de- 
pended upon  the  pleasure  of  the  race  in  which  it  had 
appeared  for  a  chance  to  spread.  It  could  hope  to  spread 
only  as  its  race  spread.  Later  on,  on  the  contrary,  after  a 
conquering  civilisation  has  made  the  tour  of  the  world,  no 
race  can  survive  or  propagate  itself  unless  it  be  apt,  and  only 
in  the  measure  that  it  is  apt,  in  developing  that  potent  body 
of  discoveries  and  inventions  that  is  organised  in  sciences 
and  industries.  Then,  too,  practical  Malthusianism  is  in- 
troduced into  the  habits  of  society.  This  may  be  taken  as  a 
negative  form  of  the  subjection  of  reproduction  to  imita- 
tion, since  it  consists  in  restraining  the  power  of  the  former 
within  the  estimated  limits  of  production,  i.  e.,  of  labour, 
an  essentially  imitative  thing.1  We  have  the  positive  form 
not  only,  as  I  have  said,  in  the  choice  of  the  fittest  race  to 
further  the  civilising  idea,  but  also  in  the  gradual  forma- 
tion of  new  races  for  this  purpose,  races  born  of  age-long 
habits  and  of  chance  or  deliberate  intercrossings.  The 
day  may  already  be  foreseen  when  civilised  man,  after  hav- 
ing created  so  many  vegetal  and  animal  varieties  to  satisfy 
his  own  wants  or  whims,  and  after  having  kneaded  at 
will  the  lower  forms  of  life,  as  if  to  train  himself  for 
some  higher  purpose,  will  dare  to  approach  the  problem  of 
directing  his  own  development,  of  scientifically  and  delib- 

1  The  most  exaggerated  expression  of  this  negative  subjection  of 
generation  to  imitation  is  found  in  the  monastic  orders  which  exact, 
together  with  the  vow  of  obedience  (or,  rather,  of  both  obedience  and 
conformity  in  belief),  the  vow  of  chastity. 


252  Laws  of  Imitation 

erately  transforming  his  own  physical  nature  in  the  direc- 
tion most  consistent  with  the  ultimate  intent  of  his  civilisa- 
tion. 

But,  while  we  wait  for  this  living  masterpiece  of  human 
art,  for  this  artificial  and  superior  human  race  which  is 
destined  to  supplant  all  known  races,  we  can  say  that  each 
of  the  national  types  that  has  been  formed  since  the  dawn  of 
history  is  a  fixed  variety  of  the  human  type,  due  to  the 
long-continued  action  of  some  particular  civilisation  which 
has  unwittingly  created  it  for  its  mirror.  In  less  than 
two  centuries  we  have  seen  the  birth  and  establish- 
ment in  the  United  States  of  an  Anglo-American  type. 
This  original  product  serves  many  sides  of  our  European 
civilisation  as  an  admirable  means  for  their  propagation 
and  progress.  The  same  thing  has  always  happened  in  the 
past.  English,  Spanish,  French,  Roman,  Greek,  Phoeni- 
cian, Persian,  Hindoo,  Egyptian,  and  other  living  or 
dead  products  of  social  domestication  are  merely  modi- 
fied offshoots  of  the  ancient  Aryan  or  Semitic  trunk. 

I  have  purposely  omitted  the  Chinese  type,  although  it 
probably  realises  the  most  complete  adaptation  of  a  given 
race  to  a  given  civilisation  in  the  fact  that  each  has  become 
inseparable  from  the  other.  In  this  case,  the  civilisation 
seems  to  have  been  moulded  by  the  race  as  much  as  the  race 
by  the  civilisation,  to  infer  from  the  essentially  familial 
character  which  this  people  has  retained  in  spite  of  its 
prodigious  expansion.  The  complete  harmony  of  these  two 
elements  without  any  very  apparent  subordination  of  either 
of  them  to  the  other,  is  not  the  least  peculiarity  of  this 
unique  empire.  It  has  known  how  to  make  much  out  of 
little  in  all  things;  in  it  the  national  is  only  the  domestic 
on  an  immense  scale.  This  is  true,  too,  of  its  civilisation 
taken  as  a  whole.  Like  its  other  features,  it  has  remained 
rudimentary  in  spite  of  its  refinement  and  even  high  at- 
tainments. Its  language  has  grown  rich  and  cultivated 
without  ceasing  to  be  monosyllabic.  Its  government  is 
both  patriarchal  and  imperialistic.  In  its  religion 
animism  and  ancestor-worship  persist  under  the  purest 


Extra-Logical  Influences  253 

form  of  spiritualism.  Its  art  is  as  awkward  and  childish 
as  it  is  subtle.  Its  agricultural  system  is  simple  and  yet 
finished.  Its  industry  is  backward,  and  yet  it  thrives.  In 
a  word,  China  has  been  able  to  stop,  all  along  the  line,  in 
the  first  of  the  three  stages  which  I  have  indicated,  and 
its  example  proves  to  us  that,  although  the  order  of  their 
succession  is  irreversible,  a  people  is  not  obliged  to  pass 
through  all  of  them  to  the  end. 

Now,  what  happens  when  a  certain  original  form  of  civ- 
ilisation has  arisen  and  spread  within  a  tribe  for  centuries 
through  custom,  and  has  then  passed  beyond  and  spread  in 
neighbouring  related  or  unrelated  tribes  through  fashion,  de- 
veloping itself  all  the  while,  what  happens  when  it  ends 
by  welding  together  all  the  tribes  in  which  it  has 
spread  into  a  new  human  variety  which  is  called  a  na- 
tion? When  this  physical  type  is  once  fixed,  the  civ- 
ilisation attaches  itself  to  it;  it  seems  to  have  created 
it  only  to  settle  down  in  it.  Ceasing  to  look  beyond 
its  own  frontiers,  it  thinks  only  of  its  own  posterity, 
and  forgets  the  foreigner — as  long,  at  least,  as  he  does  not 
force  it  to  pay  attention  to  him  by  some  rude  external 
shake-up.  At  this  time  everything  in  it  takes  on  a  national 
garb.  It  is  to  be  observed  that  sooner  or  later  every  civ- 
ilisation tends  towards  this  period  of  drawing  in  upon  and 
consolidating  itself.  Although  our  own  European  civilisa- 
tion is  following  in  all  directions  and  through  all  varieties 
of  races  its  own  line  of  expansion,  yet  even  it  already  shows 
plain  signs  of  an  inclination  to  choose  out  or  fashion  for 
itself  some  universally  invading  and  exterminating  race. 
Which  will  be  this  chosen  and  privileged  race?  Will  it  be 
Germanic  or  neo-Latin  ?  And  what  part,  alas !  will  be 
played  by  French  blood  in  its  definite  formation?  An 
anxious  question  for  a  patriotic  heart !  But  "  the  future 
is  no  man's,"  says  the  poet.  However  this  may  be,  imita- 
tion which  was  at  first  custom-imitation  and  then  fashion- 
imitation,  turns  back  again  to  custom,  but  under  a  form  that 
is  singularly  enlarged  and  precisely  opposite  to  its  first 
form.  In  fact,  primitive  custom  obeys,  whereas  custom  in 


254  Laws  of  Imitation 

its  final  stage  commands,  generation.  The  one  is  the  ex- 
ploitation of  a  social  by  a  living  form;  the  other,  the 
exploitation  of  a  living  by  a  social  form. 

This  is  the  general  formula  which  sums  up  the  whole  de- 
velopment of  every  civilisation,  at  least  of  all  those  which 
have  been  able  to  go  the  length  of  their  course  without 
sudden  annihilation.  But  this  formula  applies  even  better 
to  each  of  the  partial  developments  of  a  society,  to  the  little 
secondary  waves  which  fringe,  as  it  were,  and  constitute 
its  full  onward  sweep,  that  is  to  say,  to  the  evolution,  as 
we  shall  show  in  the  following  sections  of  this  chapter,  of 
each  of  its  separate  elements,  to  language,  religion,  govern- 
ment, law,  industry,  art,  and  morality. 

If  the  distinction  between  custom  epochs  and  fashion 
epochs  is  not  clearly  defined  in  history,  if  it  does  not  seem 
salient  to  historians,  it  is  because  epidemics  of  foreign  imi- 
tation and  sheeplike  innovation  very  rarely  flourish  in  all,  or 
almost  all,  the  regions  of  social  activity  at  the  same  time. 
To-day  they  may  make  a  revolutionary  attack  upon  re- 
ligion, to-morrow,  upon  politics  or  literature;  another  day, 
upon  language,  etc.  Communities  are  like  individuals; 
they  are  often  revolutionary  in  politics  and  at  the  same 
time  set  and  orthodox  in  religion,  or  innovators  in  politics 
and  conservative  purists  and  classicists  in  literature. 

And  the  periods  of  these  crises  vary  greatly  in  length  in 
different  cases.  When  by  exception  many  of  them  do  occur 
together,  as,  for  example,  in  the  Greek  world  in  the  sixth 
and  fifth  centuries  before  Christ,  or  as  in  Europe  in  the  six- 
teenth or  eighteenth  centuries  of  our  era,  or  as  in  contem- 
poraneous Japan,1  it  is  then  impossible  to  misunderstand 
the  eminently  revolutionary  character  of  the  times  or  not 
to  note  their  contrast  to  the  ages  which  immediately  pre- 
ceded or  followed  them.  But  such  synchronisms  are  rare. 

1  The  frenzy  for  foreign  imitation  which  reigns  at  present  in  Japan 
is  exceptional,  but  not  as  much  so  as  one  might  think.  I  hope,  in 
this  chapter,  to  dispose  my  reader  to  surmise  that  similar  fevers  have 
appeared  here  and  there  from  the  most  remote  period  of  antiquity, 
and  that  this  hypothesis  can  alone  explain  many  obscure  events. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  255 

With  the  benefit  of  this  observation,  let  us  apply  our  three- 
fold division  to  the  different  aspects  of  social  life  and 
examine  the  facts  which  it  explains. 


I.  Language 

Different  families  or  clans  originally  speak  each  its  own 
separate  tongue,1  until  the  day  comes  when  they  begin  to 
form  a  tribe;  then  the  advantage  of  speaking  a  common 
idiom  is  appreciated,  and,  during  a  more  or  less  prolonged 
period,  one  of  the  idioms,  that  generally  of  the  ruling  fam- 
ily, suppresses  all  the  others. 

The  members  of  ruling  families  who  have  known  and 
who  have  wished  to  know  only  the  language  of  their  fath- 
ers, come  to  learn,  as  a  matter  of  fashion  or  taste,  that  of 
their  foreign  masters.  Then,  when  the  fusion  of  blood  is 
completely  effected,  the  tongue  of  the  tribe,  the  great  new 
family,  first  spreads  and  then  takes  root.  It  is  a  language 
that,  after  having  begun  by  being  foreign  to  the  greater 
number  of  those  who  speak  it,  has,  in  turn,  become  a  native 

1 1  agree  entirely  with  those  philologists  who  assert  that  language 
did  not  appear  spontaneously  in  an  infinite  number  of  places  and 
families  at  the  same  time.  However  natural  the  desire  of  com- 
municating one's  thoughts  to  one's  fellows  may  have  become,  it  was 
certainly  not  able  to  bring  the  invention  of  speech  into  existence 
everywhere  at  the  same  time.  Besides,  let  me  remark  that  this  desire 
was  developed  through  the  very  speech  which  satisfied  it,  and  did  not 
exist  before  it,  so  to  speak.  It  is  extremely  likely  that  it  was  ex- 
perienced exceptionally  violently  by  some  savage  of  genius,  and  that 
through  him  the  first  manifestations  of  language  took  place  in  a 
single  family.  From  this  family,  as  from  a  centre,  the  example  of 
this  fruitful  innovation  spread  very  rapidly,  and  straightway  brought 
to  speaking  families  so  great  an  advantage  over  non-speaking  families, 
that  the  latter  speedily  disappeared ;  so  that  from  that  time  on  the 
faculty  of  speech  became  the  characteristic  of  the  human  species.  Only, 
— and  on  this  point  we  must  uphold  M.  Sayce  and  other  eminent  philolo- 
gists who  oppose  the  monogenists, — it  was  not  so  much  the  first 
crude  products  of  linguistic  invention  which  were  imitated  as  this  new 
direction  of  the  inventor's  spirit.  All  ingenious  members  of  primitive 
families  were  more  inspired  when  they  heard  spoken  words  for  the 
first  time  to  invent  articulations  like  those,  or  pretty  much  like  those, 
which  they  had  heard,  than  to  reproduce  the  very  same  articulations. 


256  Laws  of  Imitation 

tongue,  and  one  exclusively  dear  to  all  its  speakers,  who 
despise  and  reject  all  other  foreign  idioms.  This  is  not 
all.  It  is  well  to  observe  that  from  now  on  the  family,  I 
mean  the  artificial  as  well  as  natural,  patriarchal  family  of 
kinsfolk,  slaves,  and  adopted  strangers,  is  not  the  only 
primitive  social  group.  By  the  side  of  it  must  be  con- 
sidered as  the  yeast  of  all  ulterior  progress,  the  inevitable 
reunion  of  the  unclassed,  of  all  the  family  outcasts,  who 
are  forced  to  organise  into  hordes  for  conquest  or  self- 
protection.  The  number  of  these  outcasts  increases  with 
the  increasing  despotism  of  domestic  law  under  patriarchal 
rule.  If  imitation  is  the  true  social  life,  these  physiolog- 
ically heterogenous  elements  will  have  no  difficulty,  even  in 
the  most  primitive  times,  in  merging  together  socially. 
From  a  linguistic  point  of  view,  this  fusion  will  result  in 
the  creation  of  a  composite  language  like  the  hybrid  idioms 
of  certain  seaport  towns.  There  has  been,  then,  not  only 
in  periods  of  decay,  but  from  the  very  beginning,  a  kind  of 
philological  as  well  as  a  kind  of  religious  syncretism. 
But  let  us  continue.  Later  on,  when  tribes  themselves 

This  must  have  been  the  great  occupation  of  the  nascent  imagination. 
Sayce  also  says  very  truly :  "  It  is  perfectly  plain  that  at  a  certain  period 
of  social  life  the  tendency  to  express  one's  self  inarticulate  language  must 
have  been  irresistible.  Man  must  have  rejoiced,  like  the  savage  or  like 
the  child  of  to-day  in  exploiting  his  newly  acquired  power.  The 
child  never  tires  of  repeating  the  words  which  it  has  learned;  the 
savage  and  the  primary  scholar  of  imitating  new  ones."  Hence  the 
originally  infinite  multiplicity  of  tongues.  That  unity  of  language  which 
is  imagined  by  the  partisans  of  monogenism  cannot  be  attributed  to 
the  beginning,  but  only  to  the  end,  of  philological  evolution.  "  Modern 
races  are  only  the  chosen  remainder  of  an  innumerable  variety  of 
vanished  species.  As  much  can  certainly  be  said  of  languages.  .  .  . 
Here  and  there  certain  languages  have  been  stereotyped  and  spared  by 
some  happy  selection;  here  and  there  the  fragments  of  certain  others 
may  be  found ;  but  the  largest  number  have  perished  as  utterly  as  the 
animals  of  geological  antiquity.  .  .  .  Pliny  tells  us  that  in  Cocylium 
there  were  more  than  three  hundred  dialects.  Sagard  reckoned  in 
1631  that  among  the  Hurons  of  North  America  the  same  language 
was  rarely  found  in  two  villages  or  even  in  two  families  within  the 
same  village."  And  this  is  not  surprising,  if  we  call  to  mind  the 
permanent  hostility  which  separates  all  families  in  primitive  times. 
The  following  statement  is  still  stranger :  "  In  the  island  of  Tas- 
mania, a  population  of  fifty  persons  had  no  less  than  four  dialects." 


Extra-Logical  Influences  257 

seek  to  mingle  together  and  form  a  confederation,  the 
same  phases  are  repeated  on  a  larger  scale.  From  the  dif- 
fusion of  one  of  the  characteristic  tribal  languages  and  the 
suppression  of  the  others,  we  pass  on  to  the  first  foreign 
and,  then,  in  turn,  maternal,  language  of  the  city.  Later 
on  there  is  a  new  series  in  the  same  rhythm.  The  languages 
of  cities  and  provinces  which  have  concentrated  into  states 
vanish  before  the  fatuous  adoption1  of  one  among  them,  and 
the  resulting  triumphant  language  finally  becomes  a  national 
tongue  which  is  as  jealous  and  exclusive,  as  custom-bound 
and  traditional,  as  those  which  preceded  it.  We  ourselves 
are  at  this  stage.  But  do  we  in  Europe,  where  the  need  of 
international  alliance  and  confederation  is  so  manifest,  do 
we  not  feel  the  anticipatory  signs  of  the  opening  of  a  new 
period  ?  Our  mania  for  borrowing  from  the  vocabularies  of 
neighbouring  peoples  and  our  craze  for  teaching  our  chil- 
dren foreign  languages  are  clear  indications  of  this.  Neol- 
ogism flourishes  everywhere,  just  as  archaism  once  flour- 
ished. A  certain  language  which  is  spreading  with  gigantic 
strides — I  do  not  mean  Volapuk,  I  mean  English — is  tend- 
ing to  become  universal.  The  day  may  come  when  this 
language,  or  some  other,  a  language  which  will  be  the  uni- 
versal mother-tongue  and  which  will  be  as  familiar,  as  fixed, 
and  as  lasting  as  it  is  cultivated  and  widespread,  will  merge 
the  whole  human  species  into  a  single  social  family. 

Within  every  separate  nation,  large  or  small,  we  may 
observe  analagous  effects.  Tocqueville  has  very  justly  re- 
marked that  in  aristocratic  societies — where,  as  we  know, 
everything  is  hereditary  or  customary — each  class  has  not 
only  its  own  habits,  but  its  own  tongue,  a  tongue  which  it  has 
carved  out  of  the  common  idiom  for  itself.  It  "  adopts  by 
choice  certain  words  and  certain  terms  which  afterwards 

1  And  how  rapidly  this  takes  place  at  times !  The  following  is  one 
example  among  a  thousand.  Friedlander  tells  us  that  "  not  more 
than  twenty  years  had  elapsed  after  the  entire  submission  of  Pan- 
nonia,  when  Velleius  Paterculus  wrote  his  history,  and  when  knowl- 
edge of  the  Latin  language  and  even  that  of  its  literature  had  spread 
to  a  host  of  places  in  the  wild  and  rough  and  wholly  barbarous  region 
which  included  Hungary,  together  with  the  eastern  part  of  Austria." 


258  Laws  of  Imitation 

pass  from  generation  to  generation  like  their  estates.  The 
same  idiom  then  comprises  a  language  of  the  poor  and  a 
language  of  the  rich,  a  language  of  the  plebeian  and  a  lan- 
guage of  the  nobility,  a  learned  language  and  a  vulgar  one." 
and,  let  me  add,  a  sacred  language  and  a  secular  language, 
the  language  of  ceremonial  and  the  language  of  everyday 
speech.  On  the  contrary,  when  "  men,  being  no  longer  re- 
strained by  ranks,  meet  on  terms  of  constant  intercourse," 
that  is  to  say,  when  fashion-imitation  begins  to  act  openly, 
"  all  the  words  of  a  language  are  mingled  and  patois  dis- 
appear. There  is  no  patois  in  the  New  World."1 

A  language  can  spread  in  two  ways  by  means  of  fashion. 
Thanks  to  conquest  or  to  its  own  recognised  literary  su- 
periority, it  may  be  studied  voluntarily  by  the  aristocracies 
of  neighbouring  nations;  they  will  be  the  first  to  renounce 
their  own  barbarous  tongues  and,  later  on,  to  inspire  the 
lower  classes  with  either  a  vain  or  a  utilitarian  desire  to 
renounce  them  also.  In  the  second  place,  it  may  exert  a 
very  sensible  influence  over  those  nations  which  it  has  not 
succeeded  in  subjugating  in  this  way.  Although  the  former 
may  preserve  their  own  maternal  idiom,  yet  they  copy  the 
latter  in  their  literature,  they  borrow  from  it  the  construc- 
tion of  its  phrases,  the  harmony  of  its  periods,  its  refinements, 
its  prosody.  This  second  kind  of  external  imitation,  this 
so-called  literary  cultivation  of  a  language,  frequently  occurs 
in  history  and  often  coincides  with  the  first  kind.  Thus  at 
Rome,  in  the  time  of  the  Scipios,  the  young  nobles  not  only 
studied  Greek,  they  Hellenised  the  style  of  their  own  tongue. 
In  France,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  the  nobility  first  learned 
to  speak  Spanish  and  Italian  and  then  adapted  French  to 
Spanish  and  Italian  phraseology.  To  go  farther  back  into 
the  past,  it  is  probable  that  the  Persian  Persianised  in  this 
way  neighbouring  tongues,  that  the  Arab  Arabianised  them, 
etc. 

Now,    in    the    one    form    or    other,  linguistic  fashion 


1  [Democracy  in  America,  II,  82,   Alexis  de  Tocqueville.     Englisfi 
translation  by  Henry  Reeve,  Cambridge,  1863,  2d  edition. — Tr.] 


Extra-Logical  Influences  259 

leads  to  custom.  The  foreign  tongue  that  is  studied  and 
substituted  for  the  maternal  idiom,  becomes,  as  I  have  said, 
the  mother-tongue;  the  foreign' culture  which  is  introduced 
into  a  national  language  becomes  national  itself  before  long. 
In  less  than  a  century  the  Greek  periods,  the  Greek  metres, 
and  the  Greek  constructions  that  were  borrowed  by  Latin 
incorporated  themselves  in  the  genius  of  the  Latin  language 
and  came  to  be  transmitted  as  national  products. 

But  throughout  the  above  remarks  I  have  attributed  to 
imitation  of  foreigner  and  contemporary  many  changes 
which  are  due  in  large  part  to  imitation  of  superior.  It  is, 
in  fact,  very  difficult  to  distinguish  between  these  two  kinds 
of  contagion.  The  former,  however,  does  sometimes  ap- 
pear to  be  experienced  by  itself,  notably  in  that  badly 
demarcated  period  where,  in  the  night,  in  the  vast  forest  of 
the  early  Middle  Ages,  the  Romance  languages  were  born, 
like  so  many  philological  cryptogams,  with  such  rapidity 
and  in  such  obscurity.  The  linguists,  like  the  old-time 
naturalists,  have  been  in  great  haste  to  explain  this  ap- 
parently miraculous  phenomenon  on  the  hypothesis  of  true 
spontaneous  generation.  I  confess  that  I  am  not  satisfied; 
by  their  explanation,  and  I  think  I  can  affirm  that  the  sup- 
posed miracle  will  continue  to  be  mysterious  until  we  come 
to  take  another  idea  as  our  starting  point,  the  idea,  namely, 
that  towards  the  ninth  century  of  our  era,  the  spirit  of  in- 
vention, having  turned  a  little  capriciously  in  the  direction 
of  language,  perhaps  because  every  other  outlet  was  closed 
to  it  by  circumstances,  the  breath  of  fashion,  so  to  speak, 
began  to  blow,  and  for  a  long  time  drove  and  scattered  to 
the  four  corners  of  Latin  Europe  and  even  beyond  the 
new  germs  that  had  appeared  somewhere  or  other,  it  mat- 
ters little  just  where.  If,  as  we  are  assured,  the  Romance 
idioms  were  born  on  the  spot  from  the  spontaneous  decom- 
position of  Latin  in  consequence  of  the  breaking  off  of  all 
pre-existing  communication  between  the  disintegrated  pop- 
ulations of  the  Empire,  it  would  be  astonishing  to  find  that 
Latin  had  been  corrupted  everywhere  at  the  same  time  and 
in  equal  degree,  and  that  nowhere,  in  no  little  isolated 


26 o  Laws  of  Imitation 

region,  had  the  old  Latin  tongue  survived  with  its  declen- 
sions, its  conjugations,  and  its  syntax. 

Such  simultaneousness,  such  universality  of  corruption, 
in  a  time  of  such  distraction  and  in  the  case  of  such  a 
tenacious  and  such  a  live  thing  as  language,  may  well  as- 
tonish us.  Moreover,  if  this  were  so,  what  should  we  think 
of  the  uniformity  of  structure  which  is  to  be  observed  be- 
tween all  the  dialects  and  languages  which  germinated  to- 
gether from  the  rotten  trunk  of  Latin?  Certain  "close 
and  profound  analogies  exist  "  between  the  Langue  d'Oc,  the 
Langue  d'Oil,  Italian,  Spanish,  Portuguese,  Walloon,  and 
between  their  provincial  variations,  analogies  which  Littre 
justly  admires,  but  about  which  he  errs  when  he  sees  in 
them  the  effect  of  some  general  necessity.  Was  it  a  neces- 
sary and  predetermined  thing  that  everywhere,  at  all  points 
at  the  same  time,  the  article  should  spring  up  and  be  derived 
from  the  pronoun  ille,  or  that  the  perfect  indefinite  should 
be  added  to  the  Latin  preterite  to  form  with  the  aid  of  the 
verb  avoir  placed  in  front  of  the  past  particle  j'ai  aimai, 
ai  amat,  ho  amato,  he  amado,  or  that  the  word  meus  should 
be  arbitrarily  taken  as  a  new  suffix  to  constitute  the  new 
adverb,  chere-ment,  cara-men,  caramente.  ...  ?  It 
is  clear  that  each  of  these  ingenious  ideas  sprang  up  in  some 
place  or  other  from  which  it  radiated  everywhere.  But  the 
sweep1  and  rapidity  of  this  radiation  would  be  inexplicable 
unless  we  admitted  the  existence  of  some  special  current  of 
fashion  in  relation  to  the  facts  in  question. 

It  would  be  inexplicable  just  because  of  that  very  ter- 
ritorial disintegration,  and  of  that  very  rupture  of  ancient 
communications  which  has  falsely  appeared  to  furnish  an 

1  It  seems  to  have  passed  even  beyond  the  limits  of  the  Empire.  I 
find  the  proof  of  this  in  the  fact  that  about  the  same  period  German  and 
even  Slavonic  experienced  transformations  that  were  quite  like  those 
in  the  transition  of  Latin  to  the  Romance  tongues.  Cournot  observes 
that  "  according  to  Grimm  and  Bopp,  the  use  of  the  auxiliary  verb 
for  the  conjugation  of  the  perfect  tense  did  not  begin  to  appear  in 
the  Germanic  languages  before  the  eighth  or  ninth  century."  Let  him 
who  can  explain  this  coincidence  on  any  other  ground  than  that  of 
imitation. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  261 

explanation  of  the  phenomenon  in  question.  Contrariwise, 
there  is  no  better  proof  than  this  example  of  the  reality  and 
intensity  of  those  special,  intermittent  currents  which  I 
feel  compelled  to  hypothecate.  Thus,  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, the  teaching  of  Luther  spread  across  the  many  bris- 
tling frontiers  of  those  times  with  an  unheard-of  speed  that 
was  due  to  a  similar  hurricane,  a  religious  one  this  time. 
It  vent  itself  throughout  the  whole  of  Europe;  only,  as  the 
force  of  its  blasts  diminished,  it  assumed  in  each  province 
or  region  a  special  physiognomy,  comparable  to  the  diver- 
sity of  the  Romance  dialects  in  the  eleventh  century,  after 
each  province  had  reassumed  its  linguistic  isolation.  It 
must  not  be  said,  then,  that  in  the  ninth  and  tenth  centuries 
Latin  decomposed  of  itself.  It  no  more  decomposed  of  it- 
self than  did  Catholicism  at  the  time  of  Luther's  sermons. 
In  both  cases  the  introduction  of  unexpected  and  really  fresh 
microbes  was  necessary  to  bring  about  the  decomposition 
that  has  been  advanced  as  the  cause  itself.  This  decom- 
position followed,  but  did  not  precede,  the  grammatical  or 
theological  innovations  which  transformed  the  language  or 
religion  in  question.  To  spread  these  seeds  far  and  wide, 
a  kind  of  an  epidemic  disposition  to  welcome  foreign  novel- 
ties was  necessary. 

Ordinarily,  every  community  brings  this  hospitable  open- 
ing out  of  itself  to  an  end  by  shutting  itself  up  into  its  cus- 
toms. Compare  the  extreme  slowness  with  which  even  a 
conquering  language  spreads  beyond  its  habitual  area  with 
the  above-cited  linguistic  conversion  of  the  masses  of  the 
Romance  populations!  Or  compare  the  usual  amount  of 
time  it  takes  to  snatch  a  few  catechumens  away  from  their 
native  religion,  with  the  extraordinary  success  of  the  Cath- 
olic apostolate  throughout  the  Greek  and  Roman  worlds, 
and  throughout  Germany  and  Ireland  during  the  first  cen- 
turies of  our  era,  or  with  the  amazing  triumphs  of  Luther 
at  the  time  of  the  Reformation! 

These  great  revolutions  cannot  be  credited,  or  can  be 
credited  only  in  part,  to  the  prestige  of  a  superior.  The 
Romance  revolution  in  language,  like  the  Christian  revo- 


262  Laws  of  Imitation 

lution  in  religion,  in  its  first  centuries,  at  least,  arose  and 
spread  in  the  bosom  of  the  common  people  and  of  con- 
quered nations.  Nor  could  intrinsic  superiority,  in  the 
birth  of  Romance  speech,  at  any  rate,  account  for  its  tri- 
umph over  Latin,  although  the  logical  laws  of  imitation  do 
apply  here.  When  the  embryo  of  Romance  speech  was 
once  substituted  for  the  Latin  language,  it  was  undoubtedly 
by  means  of  logical  substitution  and  accumulation,  as  I  said 
above,  that  this  embryo  grew  and  matured.  But  the  pref- 
erence which  led  in  the  beginning  to  the  adoption  of  this 
still  rudimentary  language  had  certainly  nothing  rational 
about  it,  and  if  in  the  innumerable  logical  duels  which  oc- 
curred at  that  time  between  the  Latin  and  the  Romance 
forms  the  latter  had  always  the  advantage,  it  was  pre- 
cisely because  they  had  the  wind  of  fashion  behind  them. 
And  yet  an  attempt  has  been  made  to  justify  this  fact  by 
observing  that  because  the  article,  the  conditional,  and  the 
perfect  indefinite  were  lacking  in  Latin,  Romance  stepped 
in  to  fill  up  the  gap.  And  so  the  admirable  instrument 
which  served  the  great  writers  of  Rome  was  inadequate  for 
the  barbarian  colonists!  Besides,  if  the  innovation  to 
which  I  refer  had  been  favoured  merely  on  the  ground  of 
improvements,  Latin,  whose  genius  was  in  no  way  contra- 
dicted by  them,  would  only  have  been  enriched  by  them. 
But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  destroyed  by  them,  for  the 
same  spirit  which  prompted  them  also  prompted  certain 
substitutions,  substitutions  which  I  cannot  think  of  as  pro- 
gressive, that  of  the  preposition  for  the  case  of  the  declen- 
sion, for  example.  Let  no  one  say  that  the  delicate  feeling 
of  the  inflections  of  the  declension  was  necessarily  lost  as  a 
result  of  intellectual  coarsening.  Nothing  penetrates  gross 
minds  better  than  the  subtleties  of  language.  The  popula- 
tions of  this  period  were  far  from  having  a  dulled  philolog- 
ical sense;  it  was  so  acute  that  they  put  themselves  use- 
lessly to  the  effort  of  invention  for  the  mere  pleasure  of 
invention,  it  seems  to  me,  and  because  the  human  imagina- 
tion must  take  some  direction  or  other.  And  let  us  admire 
the  imaginative  luxury  of  these  primitive  people!  Littre, 


Extra-Logical  Influence  263 

•who  accuses  them  of  having  lost  the  key  to  Latin  through 
rusticity,  does  not  perceive  that  he  refutes  himself  in  the  fol- 
lowing lines :  "  Every  student  of  language  will  realise  how 
much  delicacy  and  grammatical  discrimination  was  devel- 
oped at  the  beginning  of  our  language,  how  lacking  modern 
French  is  in  these  particulars,  and  how  false  the  opinion, 
as  I  shall  not  cease  to  reiterate,  which  makes  grammatical 
barbarity  our  starting  point." 

No  philologist  will  have  difficulty  in  upholding  this  as- 
sertion. It  applies  to  the  formation  of  the  Aryan  languages 
as  well.  The  preceding  considerations  make  a  fitting  intro- 
duction, I  think,  to  certain  insights  into  the  social  conditions 
which  presided  over  their  prehistoric  appearance,  into  the 
debauch  of  invention  and  the  zeal  of  imitation  from  which 
they  proceeded.  This  need  of  irrational  linguistic  revolu- 
tion is  one  of  the  first  epidemics  of  fashion  which  rages 
among  the  adolescent,  as  we  may  see  in  our  colleges.  And 
it  affects  the  adolescence  of  nations  as  well. 

The  effects  produced  in  the  domain  of  language  by  the 
alternate  transition  from  custom  to  fashion,  and  from  fash- 
ion to  custom,  are  both  many  and  plain.  In  the  first  place, 
when  imitation  of  the  foreigner  is  combined  with  that  of 
the  superior,  a  great  progress  is  always  to  be  seen,  because 
of  a  gradual  enlargement  of  the  territory  that  belongs  to 
the  triumphant  languages,  and  because  of  a  reduction  in  the 
total  number  of  the  languages  that  are  spoken.  But  even 
when  fashion  works  alone,  it  is  effective  in  the  same  direc- 
tion; for  the  linguistic  disintegration  of  feudal  Europe, 
compared  with  the  Roman  Empire,  must  not  be  attributed 
to  fashion.  It  was  the  fault  of  the  custom  which  was  forced 
to  grow  up  after  it;  and  it  is  very  likely  that  if  fashion  had 
not  helped  to  spread  the  budding  Romance  tongues,  Latin, 
left  to  itself  in  each  distinct  canton,  would  have  evolved 
without  revolution  in  a  thousand  different  directions,  and 
given  rise  to  a  still  more  lamentable  disentegration. 

Now,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  language  is  the  most  potent 
and  indispensable  means  of  human  communication,  it  is  safe 
to  affirm  that  the  social  transformations  which  are  brought 


264  Laws  of  Imitation 

about  on  a  given  territory  in  the  direction  of  a  levelling  as- 
similation of  all  classes  and  localities  by  the  introduction 
of  locomotives  as  substitutes  for  wagons  are  as  nothing 
compared  with  the  same  kind  of  social  changes  that  are  due 
to  the  overflow  of  one  great  dialect  over  several  petty  ones, 
of  one  language  over  several  dialects.  Linguistic  similar- 
ity is  the  sine  qua  non  of  all  other  social  similarities,  and, 
consequently,  of  all  those  noble  and  glorious  forms  of 
human  activity  which  presuppose  the  establishment  of  those 
similarities  and  which  work  on  them  as  on  a  canvas.  The 
transient  period,  in  particular,  in  which  a  language  spreads 
on  the  surface  through  fashion  alone,  makes  possible  the 
advent  of  what  is  called  (for  everything  is  relative)  great 
national  literature.  The  maximum  of  value,  or,  what 
amounts  to  the  same  thing,  fame,  to  which  literary  works 
can  attain,  is  limited  to  the  number  of  those  who  can  under- 
stand them.  Consequently,  in  order  that  they  may  raise 
themselves  to  a  far  greater  height  of  value  or  glory  than 
what  has  ever  been  reached  before,  their  language  must 
flow  out  far  beyond  its  old-time  banks — irrespective  of  the 
fact  that  the  perspective  of  a  more  brilliant  prize  will  stimu- 
late genius.  And  yet  this  is  not  enough.  Although  a 
given  language  might  be  unified  if  it  were  visibly  trans- 
formed from  generation  to  generation  by  a  series  of  fashion- 
spread  grammatical  vagaries  without  any  strict  fidelity  to 
usages  or  rules,  yet  its  people  would  favour  the  blossoming 
of  ephemeral  shows,  the  masterpieces  of  a  day,  applauded 
to-day,  forgotten  to-morrow;  they  would  refuse  to  conse- 
crate those  august  and  enduring  reputations,  whose  majesty 
grows  in  the  course  of  ages  because  every  new  genera- 
tion enlarges  their  public.  Brilliant  literature,  there  might 
be,  but  there  would  be  no  classic  literature.  A  classic  writer 
is  an  ancient  literary  innovator  who  is  imitated  and  ad- 
mired by  his  contemporaries,  and  then  by  following  gener- 
ations, because  his  language  has  remained  unchanged. 
Living,  he  owes  his  incomparable  celebrity  to  the  recent 
diffusion  of  his  language;  dead,  he  owes  his  lasting  author- 
ity to  the  fixation  of  his  language  by  custom. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  265 

Successive  crises  of  fashion  also  tend,  other  things  being 
equal,  to  make  prominent, those  linguistic  innovations  which 
are  the  fittest  to  direct  language  into  a  certain  channel  which 
it  is  difficult  to  define,  but  which  is  characterised, -notably 
in  English,  by  the  simplification  of  grammar  and  by  the 
enlargement  of  vocabulary,  and  by  a  utilitarian  advance 
towards  clearness  and  regularity,  which  is  not  without  in- 
jury to  poetic  qualities.1  Let  us  bear  in  mind  these  charac- 
teristics; they  will  soon  repeat  themselves  under  other 
names.  . 

II.  Religion 

Religions  have  often  been  divided  into  two  great  classes : 
those  that  proselyte  and  those  that  do  not.  But  the  truth 
is  that  at  first  even  the  most  hospitable  religions  began  by 
being  jealously  closed  to  the  foreigner.  We  shall  find  this 
so,  at  least,  if  we  go  back  to  their  true  origins.  Buddhism, 
to  be  sure,  appealed  from  its  very  birth  to  men  of  every 
race;  but  Buddhism  is  only  a  detached  branch  of  Brahmin- 
ism,  and  Brahminism  admits  of  no  means  of  propagation,  in 
principle  at  least,  but  transmission  through  blood.2  As 
for  Christianity,  it  did  not  spread  before  the  time  of  St. 
Paul  beyond  the  Jewish  race.  Besides,  it  sprang  out  of  the 
Mosaism  which  had  always  repulsed  the  Gentiles.  It  is 
only  a  Jewish  heresy,  as  a  child  of  Israel  once  proudly  said. 
Before  Islamism  conquered  so  many  nations,  it  remained 
for  a  long  time  an  exclusively  Arabian  thing,  and  its  armed 
pontificate  was  hereditary  among  the  descendants  of  Ma- 
homet. Before  the  advent  of  Apollo,  in  Greece,  every  tribe 

1  Even  in  the  substitution  of  the  Romance  tongues  for  Latin,  and 
in  spite  of  the  grammatical  refinements  of  these  nascent  tongues,  this 
tendency  is  satisfied  by  their  analytical  character  and  simplified  con- 
struction. 

2  It  is  true,  according  to  Lyall's  recent  and  direct  observations,  that 
through  the  aid  of  numerous  fictions  ancient  Hindoo  cults  have  suc- 
ceeded in  assimilating,  by  way  of  conversion,  many  non-Aryan  peoples 
in  India.     But   the  latter  have  the  name  of  having  been   Aryanised. 
And,  besides,  those  very  fictions  by  which  they  elude  the  rigour  of  the 
ancient  regulation  testify  to  the  degree  of  its  former  severity. 


266  Laws  of  Imitation 

had  its  own  gods.  The  rapidly  propagated  cult  of  Apollo 
was  the  first  bond  of  union  between  the  Hellenic  cities.  Ex- 
clusive religions  always  precede  non-exclusive  religions,  for 
the  same  reason  that  castes  always  precede  classes,  monop- 
olies, commercial  freedom,  and  privileges,  equality  before 
the  law.  In  brief,  this  famous  distinction  between  proselyt- 
ing and  non-proselyting  religions  merely  means  that  the 
need  of  expansion  that  is  common  to  all  alike  is  satisfied 
in  the  one  case  by  the  transmission  of  useful  maxims  of 
piety  to  the  posterity  of  the  same  race,  a  posterity  that  is 
always  becoming  more  and  more  numerous, — this  is  the 
cause  of  the  ardent  desire  of  the  Hebrew  and  Aryan  of 
antiquity  for  a  numerous  offspring,1 — whereas  in  the  other 
case,  the  same  need  seeks  an  easier  and  a  quicker  satisfaction 
in  the  transmission  of  its  rites  and  dogmas  to  contempo- 
raries of  other  race  and  blood.  In  the  first  case  the  propa- 
gating agent  is  custom;  in  the  second,  that  which  I  call 
fashion.  And  the  passage  from  the  first  to  the  second  is 
only  an  extraordinary  advance  of  imitation;  it  has  passed 
from  pedestrianism  to  flight. 

But  the  most  expansive  and  hospitable  worships  end  early 
or  late  by  reaching  their  natural  limits,  and  in  spite  of  their 
vain  efforts  to  pass  beyond  them,  and  in  spite,  even,  of  the 
accidental  breaks  which  they  sometimes  effect  in  them  (just 
as  Mahometanism  has  been  proselyting  again  of  late  on 
an  immense  scale  in  the  heart  of  Africa),  they  resign  them- 
selves to  confessing  that  a  given  nationality  or  group  of 

1  Let  me  add  that  in  the  most  exclusive  religions,  the  desire  to  imi- 
tate the  foreigner,  the  inclination  to  be  in  keeping  with  certain 
dominating  international  fashions,  even  in  matters  of  religion,  is  ex- 
perienced much  more  than  one  might  suppose.  For  example,  Israel, 
before  the  time  of  Samuel,  was  troubled  and  embarrassed  in  the  midst 
of  other  nations  because  it  had  no  national  god  "  in  the  manner  of 
other  -peoples."  (See  Darmesteter,  Les  Prophetes.)  It  needed  both 
a  god  and  a  king  upon  the  model  adopted  by  its  neighbours.  "  Give 
us  a  king  to  judge  us,  as  other  peoples  have,"  says  the  Hebrew  people 
to  Samuel.  It  is  certain  that  a  like  sentiment  resulted  upon  a  hundred 
other  occasions,  and  for  a  hundred  other  peoples,  in  unifying  the 
types  of  divinity  and  monarchy  which  obtained  in  regions  of  more  or 
less  vast  dimensions. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  267 

kindred  nationalities  is  their  unique  and,  henceforward, 
impassable  domain.  Here  they  draw  back  and  implant 
themselves,  and  here  they  generally  break  up  into  frag- 
ments. From  now  on,  their  chief  care  is  not  to  spread 
themselves  among  distant  peoples  by  means  of  conquest  and 
conversion,  but  to  prolong  and  perpetuate  themselves  for 
future  generations  through  the  education  of  childhood.  All 
the  great  religions  of  our  own  days  have  reached  this  stage 
of  withdrawal,  a  stage  which  is  at  first,  before  the  decline 
which  follows  it,  not  lacking  in  fruitfulness. 

But  the  three  periods  which  I  have  pointed  out  as  exist- 
ing in  each  of  the  great  religions  had  already  been  traversed 
by  the  lower  types  of  religion  on  which  they  were  based; 
and  so  on  until  we  come  to  the  lowest  rung  of  the  religious 
ladder,  where  we  find  ancestor  or  fetich  worship,  purely 
familial  cults.1  In  the  most  ancient  times,  then,  proselytism 
must  have  been  known  and  practised,  since  a  common  wor- 
ship, the  worship  of  the  god  of  the  city,  succeeded  in  establish- 
ing itself  and  in  slowly  crushing  out  the  different  domestic 
cults  of  different  families.  But  it  must  also  have  always  hap- 
jpened  that  the  vogue  of  an  exotic  god,  of  a  god  outside  of 
the  household,  was  followed  by  a  static  period,  when  the 
exotic  god  became  established  as  a  patriotic  god,  because 
we  find  that  these  city  gods  became  as  hostile  to,  and  as  ex- 
clusive of,  one  another,  as  the  household  gods  of  a  more  re- 
mote age.  Thus  the  historic  rhythm  of  religions  is  an  alter- 
nating transition  from  proselytism  to  exclusivism  and  vice 
versa,  indefinitely.  The  statement  that  exclusivism  was  the 
first  link  in  the  chain  could  not  be  made  without  some 
hesitation. 

The  opposite  view  could  be  maintained.  In  India,  where 
in  the  depths  of  Hindooism  the  birth  of  some  very  low  form 
of  religion  is  actually  an  everyday  occurrence,  Lyall  in- 
forms us  that  their  starting  point  lies  in  the  preaching  of 
some  exalted  reformer,  of  some  ascetic  or  celibate,  who 

1  For  the  original  universality  of  the  patriarchal  family  among 
those  peoples,  at  least,  who  were  destined  for  civilisation,  see  the 
extensive  proof  given  by  Sumner  Maine  in  his  Ancient  Law, 


268  Laws  of  Imitation 

has  completely  broken  with  his  family  and  caste.  He  gains 
adherents  on  all  sides,  and  then,  from  his  followers'  habits 
of  eating  and  marrying  among  themselves,  the  sect  be- 
comes a  caste  in  its  turn,  and  ends  by  localising  itself  as  a 
family.  But  we  should  be  exaggerating  the  bearing  of  this 
contemporaneous  fact  if  we  saw  in  it  a  complete  representa- 
tion of  what  must  have  occurred  at  the  origin  of  religions. 
It  is  valuable,  however,  as  confirming  the  hypothesis  ac- 
cording to  which  the  family  is  not  the  unique  source  of 
societies.  A  band,  or  horde,  or  group  of  those  who  are 
called  indifferently  family  exiles  or  emigrants,  would  be  the 
first  term  of  a  social  evolution  differing  very  much  from  the 
preceding,  although  interwoven  with  it  and  modelled  upon  it. 
Besides,  everything  is  a  witness  to  the  fact  that  all  religions 
began  in  animism,  that  belief  in  deity  was  originally  fear  of 
spirits;  and  it  is  very  probable  that  one  of  the  first  and 
principal  manifestations  of  animism  was  the  deification  of 
dead  ancestors,  and  that  the  souls  of  dead  kinsmen  were 
the  first  spirits  that  were  feared.  As  for  spirits  of  a 
different  origin,  the  personified  forces  of  nature  in  an- 
thropomorphism, or,  rather,  at  first,  as  we  shall  see,  in 
spontaneous  zoomorphism,  was  it  not  necessary  to  get  the 
authority  of  the  head  of  the  family,  of  the  chief,  to  have 
them  adopted  unanimously?  The  really  primitive  religion, 
then,  could  only  be  transmitted  through  blood. 

In  this  connection  let  us  note  the  strange  character  of 
ancestor  apotheosis,  and,  especially,  of  its  universality.  For 
it  seems  very  difficult  to  understand  this  worship  and  vener- 
ation of  the  dead,  this  obedience  to  the  dead,  in  those  crude 
times  when  one  is  accustomed  to  think  of  the  adoration  of 
power  as  ruling  alone.  I  think  that  this  phenomenon,  to 
be  understood,  must  be  brought  into  relation  with  another 
equally  general  and  primitive  fact,  the  fact  of  gerontocracy. 
All  primitive  societies,  however  unendowed  and  unprogress- 
ive  they  may  be,  have  veneration  and  fetich  worship  for 
old  age.  But  how  can  this  fresh  fact  be  reconciled  with 
the  rule  of  brute  force?  How  does  it  happen  that  in  a 
young  world,  in  the  midst  of  perpetual  conflicts,  old  men 


Extra-Logical  Influences  269 

are  not  relegated  to  the  rear  ?  The  likeliest  explanation,  in 
my  opinion,  is  the  following:  In  the  primitive  family, 
which  is  very  self-centred  and  very  hostile  to  even  neigh- 
bouring families,  the  examples  of  the  father  must  have  a 
potent  and  irresistible  influence  over  his  children,  his  wives, 
and  his  slaves.  In  fact,  the  need  of  direction  which  they 
experience  in  view  of  their  utter  ignorance  and  lack  of  ex- 
ternal stimulus,  can  be  satisfied  only  through  imitation 
of  some  one  man,  and  he  must  be  the  man  whom  they  have 
been  in  the  habit  of  imitating  from  their  cradles.  The 
prestige  of  the  example  of  the  father,  the  king-priest  of  his 
small  state,  equals  the  sum  of  all  that  prestige  to  which  our 
modern  civilised  Europe  is  subject,  for  the  most  part  un- 
consciously, but  whose  influence  is  dispersed  by  a  thousand 
different  channels  of  docility  and  credulity,  under  the  in- 
fluence of  teachers,  comrades,  friends,  or  strangers,  instead 
of  being  concentrated  in  a  single  basin  of  paternal  cus- 
toms and  traditions.  Given  this  fact  and  the  fact  that  the 
paternal  magnetisation,  as  it  were,  is  the  more  complete  in 
the  beginning  the  greater  the  age  of  the  father,  it  having 
had  more  time  to  act  in,  the  fact  which  Buckle  has 
brought  forward  may  be  very  well  explained,  the  fact, 
namely,  that  the  more  prodigious  the  size  and  strength  and 
intelligence  that  are  attributed  by  primitive  peoples  to  their 
superhuman  giants,  and  heroes,  and  geniuses,  the  more  re- 
mote is  the  past  to  which  they  tend  to  assign  them.  This 
is  an  optical  effect,  an  orientation  of  admiration,  which 
parental  prestige  is  able  to  account  for.  The  children  know 
that  their  own  father  trembles  before  the  shadow  of  his  an- 
cestor. The  idol,  then,  of  their  idol  must  seem  a  superior 
kind  of  god  to  them. 

But  Buckle  might  also  have  observed  that  even  in  the 
most  remote  period  of  antiquity  the  worship  of  the  for- 
eigner appears  alongside  that  of  the  ancestor.  The  distant 
in  space  is  no  less  prestigious  to  barbarians  and  savages 
than  the  distant  in  time.  And  the  wonders  of  the  world 
they  dream  of,  their  Edens  and  Hells,  in  particular,  and  the 
beings  they  endow  with  supernatural  power  are  localised  by 


270  Laws  of  Imitation 

their  legends  on  the  borders  of  the  known  universe.  The 
Aztecs  thought  that  they  were  fated  to  be  conquered  by  a 
divine  race  hailing  from  the  shores  of  the  far  East.  The 
Peruvians  held  an  analogous  belief.  It  is  impossible  not  to 
recognise,  moreover,  that  several  of  their  gods  were  the 
alien  reformers  or  conquerors  who  had  charmed  or  sub- 
jugated their  forefathers.  The  same  fact  may  be  observed 
in  all  old  religions.  The  reason  of  it  is  that,  from  the  most 
remote  period  of  antiquity,  parental  prestige  must  have 
often  been  arrested  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  some  ex- 
ternal and  superior  prestige.  From  time  to  time  some  un- 
known chief  of  invincible  fame  rises  up  out  of  the  distant 
horizon;  all  are  prostrate  before  him,  and  the  Penates  are 
for  the  moment  forgotten.  A  newcomer,  a  bringer  of  se- 
cret and  admirable  knowledge,  is  conceived  of  as  an  all- 
powerful  sorcerer  before  whom  the  whole  world  trembles. 
The  multiplication  of  such  apparitions  is  all  that  is  needed 
to  turn  men  towards  a  new  form  of  adoration,  to  substitute 
the  fascination  of  the  distant  for  that  of  the  past.1  More- 
over, it  is  likely  that  the  despotic  authority  of  foreign  mas- 
ters and  civilisers  was  copied  from  that  of  the  pater  familias, 
and  the  apotheosis  of  these  epochs,  whether  filial  or  servile, 
displays  itself  to  us  as  the  highest  degree  of  reverential  fear. 
It  is,  therefore,  not  astonishing  that  the  most  despotic 
gods  are  also  the  most  revered.  To-day,  families  which  are 
ruled  by  authority  show  us  the  same  state  of  things.  The 
terrifying  character  of  ancient  deities  and  the  humiliating 
nature  of  ancient  cults  are  not  due  to  a  source  for  which 
man  need  blush.  And  we  can  understand  the  persistence 
of  such  beliefs  in  ancient  societies  from  the  fact  of  their 

1  Hence  the  apotheosis  of  inventors  which  is  such  an  important 
source  of  mythologies.  "  Among  the  Phoenicians,  as  among  the 
Iranians,  the  invention  of  fire  and  the  beginning  of  a  divine  worship 
seem  to  be  closely  related.  In  reading  the  Biblical,  Phoenician, 
Babylonian,  and  Iranian  cosmogonies,  side  by  side,  we  recognise  in 
them  the  intention  to  represent  in  the  succession  of  generic,  instead 
of  individual  personages,  the  succession  of  the  inventions  and  develop- 
ments which  had  guided  the  human  race  up  to  the  time  when  the 
cosmogones  were  written"  (Littre.  Fragments  de  philosophic  posi- 
tive) [p.  311.  Paris,  1876.— TV.]. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  271 

dependence  upon  the  social  principle  without  which  the  so- 
cieties themselves  could  not  have  been  possible.  For  this 
reason,  although  atheism  would  certainly  have  been  a  great 
relief  to  the  hearts  of  devout  people  as  an  emancipation 
from  their  chronic  state  of  terror,  atheism  could  not  spread 
at  a  time  when  it  would  have  been  social  suicide. 

Nevertheless,  in  the  beginnings  of  mankind,  the  isolation 
of  human  families  that  were  scattered  in  a  growling  wilder- 
ness of  animal  life  must  have  been  great  enough  to  have 
prevented  them  from  encountering  or  fighting  one  another 
very  often.  The  cause,  then,  to  which  I  have  referred 
could  not  have  gained  its  full  importance  until  later.  On 
the  other  hand,  another  class  of  strange  charmers  must 
have  played,  it  seems  to  me,  a  preponderating,  although 
overlooked  or  inadequately  appreciated,  role  in  the  forma- 
tion of  very  ancient  mythologies.  These  were,  at  first,  wild 
beasts  and  venomous  serpents;  and  then  domestic  animals. 
And  I  lay  stress  upon  this  side  of  mythologies,  because  here 
we  have,  in  the  most  remote  ages,  the  isolated  action  of  fash- 
ion, independent  of  any  such  imitation  of  superiority  as  we 
had  in  the  kind  of  progress  which  we  have  already  dis- 
cussed. 

To-day  we  hunt  wild  beasts,  but  our  first  ancestors  fought 
them.  It  was  with  wild  beasts,  primarily,  that  they 
were  forced  to  be  constantly  at  war,  either  for  food  or 
self-defence.  "  As  often  pursued  as  pursuer."  Primitive 
man  was  undoubtedly  far  from  feeling  the  contempt  which 
we  feel  for  the  hare  and  quail  of  our  plains,  or  even  for  the 
wolves  and  boars  of  our  lingering  forests,  for  the  lions, 
the  cave  bears,  the  rhinoceros,  and  the  mammoths  against 
which  he  fought  day  after  day  with  thrilling  turns  of  for- 
tune. The  end  of  the  tertiary  period  and  the  beginning  of 
the  quartenary  period,  that  is,  of  the  age  when  man  began 
to  count  for  something,  is  characterised  by  a  formidable 
"  emission  of  flesh  eaters."  Such  a  deadly  and  such  a  cun- 
ning fauna  had  never  before  appeared  on  the  earth.  Ele- 
phants, rhinoceroses,  tigers  twelve  feet  long,  lions,  hyenas, 
etc.,  all  belonged  to  extinct  species  of  which  extant  ones  are 


272  Laws  of  Imitation 

but  pale  reflections,  and  all  habitually  preyed  upon  man. 
Before  these  terrible  belligerents,  much  more  than  before 
the  great  men  of  prey  of  neighbouring  tribes,  he  trembled 
with  that  sacred  fear  which  is  the  beginning  of  all  devotion. 
And  afterwards,  when  he  found  himself  in  the  presence  of 
any  great  phenomenon,  a  tempest,  the  phases  of  the  moon, 
the  rise  or  setting  of  the  sun,  etc.,  and  when  he  animated  the 
phenomenon  in  order  to  understand  it,  his  spontaneous  per- 
sonification of  it  was  more  animal-like  than  human.  For 
him  to  personify  was  to  animalise,  rather  than  to  humanise. 
If  all  primitive  gods,  from  the  Scandinavan  Pantheon  to  the 
Aztec  Olympia,  are  saturated  with  blood  and  are  unmerci- 
ful in  exacting  a  periodic  tribute  of  human  lives,  a"  tribute 
which  comes  to  be  rendered  to  them  later  on  in  an  equiva- 
lent of  animal  lives,  until  only  its  shadow  and  mere  vege- 
table symbol  survives  in  the  Christian  host,  if  all  these 
archaic  divinities  are  cannibals,  is  it  not  because  man  con- 
ceived of  them,  not  precisely  in  his  own  image,  but  in  the 
type  of  those  great  superhuman  monsters,  reptiles  or 
carnivora,  which  often  devoured  him? 

This  hypothesis  allows  us  to  rate  primitive  man  as  superior 
to  his  deities,  since  it  explains  their  ferocity,  not  on  the 
ground  of  his  alleged  wickedness,  but  on  that  of  the  hard 
conditions  of  his  precarious  and  anxious  and  perilous  ex- 
istence. Now,  nothing  supports  the  ordinary  hypothesis 
according  to  which  man  has  modelled  his  gods  after  himself. 
The  resemblance  is  so  slight!  They  are  immortal  and  in- 
vulnerable, he  so  ephemeral!  They  are  caprice  incarnate, 
he  is  routine  itself.  They  command  surrounding  nature  as 
its  masters;  he  falls  prostrate  before  the  pettiest  meteor. 
My  conjecture,  on  the  contrary,  is  based,  as  we  have  seen, 
on  serious  considerations.  I  may  add  that  the  universality 
of  sanguinary  deities  is  naturally  explained  by  the  universal- 
ity of  ferocious  beasts;  and  the  fact  that  all  races  have  the 
same  starting  point  explains,  in  turn,  the  similarity  of  the 
phases  traversed  by  religious  evolution:  human  sacrifices, 
animal  sacrifices,  fruit  offerings,  spiritual  symbolism. 

Moreover,  if  our  point  of  view  is  true,  it  follows  that 


Extra-Logical  Influences  273 

when,  in  a  subsequent  age,  the  ebb  tide  of  animality  and  the 
rising  tide  of  humanity  enhanced  the  importance  of  war 
between  man  and  man,  and  diminished  that  of  the  war  be- 
tween man  and  beasts,  the  gods  of  human  form  must  have 
decidedly  prevailed  over  the  beast-like  gods.  This  is  just 
what  happened;  this  gradual  humanising  of  deities  is  one 
of  our  most  substantiated  facts.  The  Egyptian  deities, 
with  a  man's  face  on  an  animal's  body,  or  with  an  animal's 
face  on  a  man's  body,  show  us  the  most  ancient  transition 
that  is  known  from  the  prehistoric  zoomorphic  gods  to  the 
purely  anthropomorphic  gods  which  the  Greeks  gradually 
elaborated.  It  was  a  profound  transformation,  whose  ac- 
complishment could  not  fail  to  revolutionise  the  divine  idea. 
Originally,  deity  was  pre-eminently  destructive;  whereas 
with  us  it  is  primarily  creative.  Warlike  gods  were  neces- 
sarily triumphant,  and  in  war  to  triumph  was  to  destroy. 
Incidentally,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  habitual  or  ritualis- 
tic anthropophagy  of  primitive  peoples  is  explained  by  the 
foregoing  considerations.  When  man  was  overcome,  and 
this  frequently  happened,  in  his  combats  with  monsters,  he 
was  always  devoured.  Consequently,  when  he  happened 
to  overthrow  them,  he  took  it  as  his  duty  to  kill  and  eat 
them,  however  unedible  they  might  be,  not  only  for  food, 
but,  following  the  everlasting  custom  of  military  retaliation, 
for  the  sake  of  reprisal  as  well.1  On  this  supposition,  what 
should  happen  when  two  tribes  made  war  against  each 
other?  Such  chance  combats  wedged  themselves  in  be- 
tween the  familiar  combats  with  the  great  carnivora,  and 
bore  the  same  relation  to  them  as  species  to  genus.  And 
so  it  naturally  came  to  be  a  rule  for  captives,  and  even  for 
the  corpses  of  the  conquered,  to  be  treated  like  animals  that 
had  been  trapped  or  beaten;  they  were  sacrificed  and  sol- 
emnly eaten  at  a  triumphant  feast.  The  first  triumph  must 
have  been  a  banquet.  Thus  cannibalism  must  have  arisen, 
originally,  from  imitation  of  the  primitive  chase,  although 

1  This  undoubtedly  is  the  reason  why,  in  prehistoric  coves,  we  never 
find  among  their  flint  implements  any  complete  animal  skeleton,  not 
even  those  of  cave  bears. 


274  Laws  of  Imitation 

it  might  have  been  maintained  later  on  for  motives  of  a 
mystical  or  utilitarian  nature.1 

It  may  be  seen  how  proper  the  preceding  considerations 
are  to  explain  a  fact  which  greatly  astonishes  mythologists 
and  which  has  called  forth  the  most  contradictory  hypoth- 
eses from  them,  the  fact,  namely,  that  everywhere  in  the 
world  the  most  ancient  gods  of  mythology  have  been 
animals,  savage  and  often  ferocious  beasts,  and  that  if  in 
the  progress  of  the  ages  their  zoomorphic,  their  theriomor- 
phic  character  has  gradually  changed  into  anthropomorph- 

1  Let  me  add  to  this  a  consideration  of  a  more  sentimental  nature, 
which  will  present  in  a  still  more  favourable  light  the  primitive  adora- 
tion of  animals.  Originally,  the  social  group  is  so  small  that  it  is 
unable  to  satisfy  the  greed  of  sociability  which  it  has  itself  developed. 
This  want  grows  more  rapidly,  much  more  rapidly,  than  the  group. 
Consequently,  those  sentiments  which  find  difficulty  in  venting  them- 
selves in  the  relations  of  man  with  his  fellows,  scattered  as  they  are, 
and,  especially  in  his  relations  to  his  friends  and  associates,  the  only 
ones  that  he  can  be  with  to  any  extent,  must  pour  themselves  out  upon 
the  creatures  of  nature,  and  especially  upon  the  animals  that  are  in 
constant  contact  with  primitive  man.  This  is  perhaps  the  partial  ex- 
planation of  the  great  part  which  both  wild  and  domestic  animality 
plays  in  the  life  of  the  savage  and  the  early  troglodyte.  The  draw- 
ings of  mammoths,  of  whales,  of  lions,  etc.,  upon  their  ivory  plates 
or  staffs  of  command  testify  to  their  zoolatry,  or,  rather,  to  their 
theriolatry. 

Goblet  d'Alviella  is  quite  right  in  seeing  in  these  first  attempts  at 
art  a  response  to  the  needs  of  deity,  rather  than  to  still  undeveloped 
aesthetic  needs.  These  mysterious  gods,  these  god-beasts,  must  have 
inspired  a  strange  kind  of  terror,  a  terror  as  strange  as  their 
monstrous  shapes,  as  well  as  a  singular  kind  of  piety,  a  servile  admira- 
tion which,  in  spite  of  its  servility,  was  a  touching  and  true  form  of 
adoration.  Whatever  terrifies  always  ends  by  being  adored.  But 
this  animal  idolatry  is  only  part  of  the  semi-social  relations  which 
primitive  man  created  between  himself  and  animal  nature.  On  the 
other  side,  the  domestic  animals  probably  inspired  in  him  a  certain 
genuinely  paternal  or  filial  tenderness.  There  is  still  a  trace  of  this 
in  the  affectionate  care  that  the  peasant  daily  bestows  upon  his  cat- 
tle; he  is  never  separated  from  them  without  regret.  An  animal  slave, 
like  a  human  slave,  is  easily  taken  into  the  family. 

It  is  probable,  therefore,  that  in  the  beginning  the  cords  of  the 
heart  that  were  set  in  vibration  by  nature  and,  especially,  by  animal 
nature,  were  of  much  greater  importance  compared  with  those  that 
were  stirred  by  human  society  than  their  actual  relative  importance. 
An  attempt  was  made  to  gain  real  social  intercourse  with  animals ; 
hence  the  attribution  of  language  to  animals,  as  Goblet  d'Alviella 
reasonably  surmises. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  275 

ism,  it  is  never  impossible  to  discern  the  deified  beast  under 
the  humanised  god.1  The  animal  companion  of  a  god  has 
begun  by  being  the  god  himself.  This  was  true  of  the 
goose  of  Priapus,  of  the  cuckoo  of  Hera,  of  the  mouse  of 
Apollo,  of  the  owl  of  Pallas,  as  well  as  of  the  humming- 
bird of  the  Aztec  god  Huitzilopochtli.  It  has  been  proved 
that,  prior  to  the  invasion  of  the  Shepherd  Kings,  "  when- 
ever the  gods  [Egyptian]  appeared  on  monuments  they 
were  represented  by  animals."  Shall  we  explain  with 
Lang  this  universal  deification  of  the  surrounding  fauna 
(and,  at  times,  of  the  flora),  as  the  result  of  totemism,  of 
the  universal  custom  among  savages  and  primitive  peoples 
of  recognising  some  animal  as  their  first  tribal  ancestor? 
And  then  shall  we  proceed  to  connect  animal  worship  with 
ancestor  worship?  On  the  contrary,  I  think  that,  in  this 
case,  the  effect  is  taken  for  the  cause.  Totemism  does  not 
explain  the  deification  of  animals;  this  deification  can 
alone  give  a  reasonable  explanation  of  totemism.2  The  ani- 
mal is  not  reputed  to  be  an  ancestor  until  after  it  has  been 
deified.  Now,  why  has  it  been  deified  ?  Because  the  sight 
of  it  inspired  terror  or  admiration,  or  merely  because  it 
once  chanced  to  create  a  lively  feeling  of  surprise  as  the 
result,  undoubtedly,  of  a  mistaken  observation  on  the  part 
of  some  ignorant  observer.  The  first  animal,  the  first 
natural  being  which  appealed  to  the  savage's  curiosity, 
opened  out  a  new  world  to  him,  a  world  outside  of  his 
family,  or,  rather,  made  a  new  opening  for  him  into  that 
world  which  the  never-ending  growling  of  savage  creatures 
had  never  allowed  him  wholly  to  ignore.  Seen  through  his 
dreams  or  fears,  either  the  commonplace  or  the  terrible 

1  On  this  point  I  refer  my  readers  to  the  Mythology  of  Mr.  Andrew 
Lang.     [Published  in  the  Encyclopedia  Britannica. — Tr.] 

2  On  the  other  hand,   I   readily  admit  that  the  interdiction,  which 
is  so  frequent  in  ancient  religions,  against  eating  the  flesh  of  certain 
animals,    is    explained   by   totemism   and    not   at    all    by    motives   of 
hygiene.     These   motives  were  trumped   up   afterwards,   like  those  of 
the  somnambulist,  who  is  quick  to  act  on  suggestion,  to  justify  himself 
in  his  own  eyes   for   the  unconscious  act  of  obedience   which  he  is 
about  to  commit. 


276  Laws  of  Imitation 

animal  revealed  to  him  something  outside  of  himself  or  his 
people  that  was  worthy  of  his  interest.  This  animal,  then, 
this  stranger,  whose  prestige  he  feels  and  yields  to,  tears 
him  away  from  the  exclusive  prestige  of  his  divine  ances- 
tors and  despotic  masters.  And  if  the  deified  animal 
comes  to  take  higher  rank  than  that  of  the  latter,  it  is  none 
the  less  true  that,  far  from  this  new  cult  being  derived  from 
the  family  cult,  it  must  have  been  in  opposition  to  it.  In 
the  beginnings  of  mankind,  when  animality  dominated,  the 
stranger  after  whom  man  must  have  sought  to  model  him- 
self, and  to  whose  fascination  he  must  have  yielded  after  he 
had  escaped  from  that  of  his  forefathers,  must  have  been, 
ordinarily,  an  animal,  although,  from  time  to  time,  and 
later  on  more  frequently,  encounters  with  other  tribes  al- 
lowed the  human  stranger  to  play  a  like  part.  It  is  certain 
that  two  prominent  kinds  of  myths  are  to  be  found  side  by 
side  in  all  old  mythologies,  myths  about  animal-gods  and 
myths  about  divine  or  heroic  civilisers.  This  curious 
juxtaposition  would  be  most  incomprehensible  unless  my 
point  of  view  were  accepted.  According  to  it,  these  two 
classes  of  myths  are  merely  varieties  of  one  genus.  Both 
witness  from  the  most  remote  periods  to  the  action  of  ex- 
ternal and  contemporaneous  prestige,  the  source  of  fashion, 
as  contrasted  with  paternal  prestige,  the  source  of  custom. 
Let  us  continue.  I  have  not  yet  finished  my  enumera- 
tion of  the  principal  sources  of  primordial  religions.  To 
conclude  this  conjectural  and  somewhat  digressive  investi- 
gation, I  may  say  that  after  the  deification  of  fierce  beasts, 
domestic  animals  should  have  been  and  were  deified.  Thus 
good  gods  came  to  take  a  place  next  to  bad  gods,  forming 
in  this  way  a  transitory  phase  that  it  is  well  to  notice  be- 
tween theriomorphism  and  anthropomorphism,  in  addition 
to  the  transitions  already  referred  to.  Conceive,  indeed,  of 
the  immense  and  beneficent  change  which  was  wrought 
when,  in  the  midst  of  some  small  human  colony,  which 
lacked  all  forms  of  industry  or  agriculture  and  all  means  of 
supply  but  the  bow  and  harpoon,  some  savage  genius 
dreamed  of  domesticating  a  dog,  a  sheep,  a  reindeer,  a  cow. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  277 

an  ass,  or  a  horse.1  What  do  all  our  modern  inventions 
amount  to  in  comparison  \vith  this  capital  invention  of 
domestication?  This  was  the  first  decisive  victory  over 
animality.  Now,  of  all  historic  events,  the  greatest  and 
the  most  surprising  is,  unquestionably,  the  one  which  alone 
made  history  possible,  the  triumph  of  man  over  surround- 
ing fauna.  Moreover,  the  farther  back  one  travels  into 
the  past,  the  greater  the  value  of  cattle  appears  to  be.  Cat- 
tle were  the  most  precious  part  of  spoil,  the  most  coveted 
kind  of  treasure,  and  the  first  form  of  money.  Hence,  the 
deification  of  bulls,  oxen,  and  cows  in  the  Old  World  and  of 
llamas  in  America.  This  was  a  great  advance  upon  the 
apotheosis  of  carnivorous  animals.  Egypt  is  a  witness  to 
this  fact  in  the  pre-eminence  which  she  accorded  to  her 
Apis  over  the  tiger,  lion,  and  cat-like  deities  of  her  more 
ancient  mythology.  Archaic  Greece  gave  a  great  impetus 
to  the  development  of  this  already  civilised  form  of  animal 
worship.  We  have  the  proof  of  this,  among  other  facts, 
in  the  myth  of  the  centaurs,  half  men,  half  horses,  which 
undoubtedly  expresses  the  gradual  humanisation  of  a  primi- 
tive horse-worship,  and  to  correspond  in  this  new  phase  of 
the  divine  idea  to  the  human-faced  tiger-gods  of  Egypt. 
In  his  excavations  in  Argolis,  Schliemann  discovered 
thousands  of  very  ancient  idols  in  which  a  similar  meta- 
morphosis from  a  cow-goddess  to  a  woman-goddess2  could 
be  traced  through  its  many  phases  up  to  the  point  when  two 
almost  invisible  little  horns  was  the  last  sign  of  the  origi- 
nally bovine  nature  of  the  divinity.  This  explains  the  lit- 
tle-understood Homeric  epithet  of  boopis.  It  is  unnecessary 
to  remind  the  reader  of  the  cow-worship  of  India. 

1  Inventions  in  matters  of  domestication  are  so  significant  that,  like 
those  relating  to  the  conquest  of  minerals,  they  have  seemed  adequate 
to  characterise   different   civilisations.    Just   as   ages   are   marked   out 
as  the  rough  stone  age  or  the  polished  stone  age,  as  the  age  of  bronze, 
as   the  age  of  iron,   so  the  peoples   possessing  oxen  and  cows    (the 
primitive  Aryas),  or  horses  (Turanians,  Arabs),  or  asses  (Egyptians), 
or  camels  (the  desert  Nomads),  or  reindeer  (Laps),  etc.,  are,  or  may 
be,  distinguished  accordingly. 

2  They  were   "  either  in  the   form  of  woman   with  horns   on   both 
sides  of  the  breast,  or  in  the  form  of  cows." 


278  Laws  of  Imitation 

But  man  celebrated  the  wonders  of  domestication  not 
merely  by  his  worship  of  different  kinds  of  cattle;  he  also 
celebrated  it  in  the  nature  of  the  cult  which  he  paid  to  gods 
of  various  origins.  After  he  had  domesticated  animals  and 
had  appreciated  the  immense  advantage  of  their  exploita- 
tion, he  must  have  asked  himself  whether  he  could  not  also 
domesticate  some  of  those  gods,  of  those  great  spirits  which 
he  had  already  conceived  of  as  the  hidden  springs  of  the 
great  mechanisms  of  nature,  of  sun  and  moon,  of  rain  and 
tempest,  and  which  he  had  pictured  under  the  lineaments 
of  men  and  animals.  Once  these  conceptions  had  been 
taken  and  developed  into  an  innumerable  divine  fauna,  the 
domestication  of  divinities  must  have  been  the  great  pre- 
occupation of  men  of  ability.  It  was  a  question  of  having 
one's  own  spirits  attached  to  one's  dwelling,  like  sheep,  or 
dogs,  or  reindeer.  These  were  the  Lares;  and  they  were 
not  always,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  souls  of  ancestors.  But 
how  were  these  wild  deities  to  be  overcome  and  humanised? 
By  methods  strangely  like  those  which  had  served  in  the 
subjection  of  tame  animals,  namely,  by  caresses  and  flattery, 
by  offering  them  the  advantage,  rare  in  those  times,  of  a 
regular  and  abundant  nourishment  which  would  entirely 
relieve  them  of  the  effort  of  searching  for  an  uncertain  and 
intermittent  one.  Here  we  have  the  origin  of  sacrifices. 
This  view  will  cease  to  appear  odd  if  we  try  to  conceive 
of  what  domestication  must  originally  have  been.  To  us 
the  trained  horse  that  is  docile  under  its  bit  is  merely  a 
certain  muscular  force  under  our  control.  But  to  the  sav- 
age of  bygone  ages,  just  as,  to  a  certain  extent,  to  the 
Arab  of  to-day,  the  horse  possessed  a  hidden  power  which 
could  not  be  managed  without  a  certain  superstitious  fear 
of,  or  respect  for,  its  latent  mystery.  Therefore,  it  is  less 
surprising  for  worship  to  have  been  an  attempt  at  domestica- 
tion, if  domestication  was  really  a  kind  of  worship. 

In  support  of  these  speculations,  I  will  add  another  which 
completes  them  and  which  seems  to  me  to  be  equally  prob- 
able. The  idea  of  reducing  men  to  slavery,  instead  of  kill- 
ing and  eating  them,  must  have  arisen  after  the  idea  of 


Extra-Logical  Influences  279 

training  animals  instead  of  feeding-  on  them,  for  the  same 
reason  that  war  against  wild  beasts  must  have  preceded 
that  against  alien  tribes.  When  man  enslaved  and  domes- 
ticated his  kind,  he  substituted  the  idea  of  human  beasts  of 
burden  for  that  of  human  prey. 

But  the  preceding  speculations  on  the  probable  origin  of 
the  earliest  religions  is,  to  be  frank,  a  digression  for  which 
I  crave  the  reader's  indulgence.  Let  us  return  to  our  spe- 
cial subject  and  let  us  seek  out,  as  we  have  already  done  in 
the  case  of  language,  the  consequences  which  are  involved 
in  the  transition,  in  questions  of  religion,  from  custom  to 
fashion,  and  from  fashion  to  custom,  that  is  to  say,  in  the 
development  of  a  worship  following  upon  its  establishment 
in  an  enlarged  domain.  In  the  second  place,  let  us  ask 
ourselves  what  are  the  inner  characteristics  which  the  ex- 
pansion of  a  cult  presupposes  and  which  enable  it  to  be 
successful  ?  I  answer,  in  a  word,  to  the  first  point  of  view, 
that  a  widespread  religion  is  a  prerequisite  of  every  great 
civilisation,  and  that  a  stable  religion  is  the  no  less  neces- 
sary condition  of  every  strong  and  original  civilisation.  As 
its  cult,  so  its  culture.  To  the  second  point  of  view  I  an- 
swer that  the  most  spiritual  and  philanthropic  religion  has 
the  greatest  chance  of  expansion,  and  that,  on  the  other 
hand,  a  religion  which  spreads  beyond  its  source  tends  to 
become  spiritualised  and  humanised. 

This  tendency  of  religions  to  become  spiritualised  in  their 
onward  movement  is  well  known.  The  worship  of  Apollo, 
for  example,  which  is  so  pure  and  noble  a  worship  in  com- 
parison with  the  gross  cults  which  it  succeeded,  Hebrew 
prophecy,  which  is  spiritual,  compared  with  the  Mosaism 
which  preceded  it,  Christianity,  which  is  still  more  spiritual, 
and  the  particularly  refined  forms  of  Christian  spirituality, 
Protestantism  and  Janseism,  all  these  are  so  many  success- 
ive steps  in  religious  evolution.  But  now  we  know  the 
reason  of  this  progress.  The  idea  of  deity,  which  was  at 
first  bestial  or  physical  in  the  times  when  the  relations  of 
men  with  beasts  and  nature  were  more  frequent  and  im- 
portant than  their  relations  with  their  non-related  fellows, 


280  Laws  of  Imitation 

becomes  gradually  spiritualised,  or,  to  put  it  better,  human- 
ised, in  the  social  sense  of  the  word,  as  man  comes  into 
closer  touch  with  both  related  and  non-related  man  and  as 
his  direct  contact  with  nature  diminishes.  And  we  have 
seen  how  the  animal  character  of  ancient  gods  came  to  be 
effaced  and  replaced  by  human  traits,  which  have  them- 
selves ended  by  vanishing,  transfigured,  into  a  sublime 
dream  of  infinite  Wisdom  and  Power.  This  change  was 
wrought  in  the  divine  idea  at  the  same  time  that  religion,  of 
which  it  is  the  soul,  passed  beyond  the  limits  of  its  cradle 
in  the  family.  These  two  transformations  must  have  been 
parallel,  for  they  emanated  from  the  same  cause:  the  pre- 
ponderance that  was  acquired  by  the  social  and,  conse- 
quently, by  the  spiritual  side  of  human  things  over  their 
natural  and  material  side.  Imitation  was  emancipated 
from  heredity  for  the  same  reason  that  mind  was  disen- 
gaged from  matter.1  On  the  other  hand,  the  latter  progress 
facilitated  the  former.  The  god  who  is  the  least  corporeal 
and  the  most  spiritual  is  the  one  who  has  the  most  chance 
of  subjugating  foreign  peoples;  for  men  of  different  races 
differ  less  from  one  another  intellectually  than  physically, 

1  In  Greece  and  Rome,  especially,  the  more  or  less  advanced  spirit- 
ualisation  of  a  religion  which  had  been  hitherto  materialistic  was  ac- 
companied by  the  substitution  of  a  priesthood,  recruited  by  voluntary 
consecration,  by  election  or  by  lot,  for  an  originally  hereditary  priest- 
hood. This  innovation  took  place  at  Athens  about  510  B.  c.,  through 
the  reform  of  Cleisthenes,  who  completed  the  work  of  Solon  and  sup- 
pressed the  four  ancient  tribes,  which  were  religious  corporations  based 
upon  consanguinity,  and  replaced  them  with  new  tribes  composed  of 
demes,  a  purely  territorial  division.  Sacerdotal  functions  became,  in 
consequence,  elective.  A  similar  change  was  effected  at  Sparta  and 
in  many  other  Greek  cities  at  the  same  epoch,  just  when  philosophy 
had  begun  to  creep  into  dogma.  At  Rome  the  fight  between  the 
patricians  and  the  plebeians  turned  largely  on  the  question  whether 
the  functions  of  the  flamens,  the  salians,  the  vestals,  and  the  sac- 
rificial king  should  continue  to  be  hereditary  or  should  be  passed  on 
through  election.  A  moment  came,  towards  the  end  of  the  Republic, 
when  the  light  of  Greece  had  begun  to  shine  upon  it,  when  the  plebs, 
who  had  already  gained  access  to  the  different  magistracies  which 
had  before  that  been  reserved  to  the  patricians,  likewise  obtained  a 
right  to  aspire  to  the  sacerdotal  dignities  which  the  superior  caste 
had  kept  to  itself  and  transmitted  as  a  privilege  of  birth.  This  was 
one  of  the  last  conquests  of  the  plebs. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  281 

or,  at  any  rate,  their  physical  differences  are  less  rigid  and 
unmalleable  and  more  easily  effaced  through  gradual  as- 
similation than  their  physical  differences.  For  the  same 
reason  the  most  systematic  mythology  is  the  one  that  is 
fated  to  win  territory. 

The  springing  up  of  a  religion  beyond  its  native  race  in- 
volves, we  may  suppose,  another  important  progress.  Is  it 
because  its  founder  has  proclaimed  the  brotherhood  of  men 
of  all  races  that  a  religion  is  apt  to  overflow,  or  does  its 
founder  profess  this  regenerating  dogma  to  create  in  it  this 
aptitude?  It  matters  not.  It  is  clear  that  the  proclama- 
tion of  such  a  truth  greatly  favours  the  propagation  of  the 
beliefs  which  are  united  to  it.  Christianity  and  Buddhism 
are  proofs  of  this.  When  the  spirit  of  Custom  is  in  full 
sway,  religious  sentiment  is  directed  towards  the  past  or 
the  future,  man's  great  preoccupation  is  centred  about  his 
ancestors  and  his  posthumous  life,  as  in  China  or  Egypt, 
or  about  his  posterity,  as  in  Israel.  In  a  word,  the  devout 
spirit  is  supported  by  the  thought  of  the  infinite  in  time.  On 
the  contrary,  where  the  spirit  of  Fashion  is  fully  triumphant, 
religious  sentiment  receives  its  liveliest  inspirations  and  its 
most  spontaneous  impulses  from  the  thought  of  the  im- 
mensity of  the  earth  and  heavens,  from  the  conception 
of  a  universe  whose  boundaries  are  forever  receding  and 
of  a  great  omnipresent  God,  the  common  father  of  all! 
beings  scattered  throughout  the  infinity  of  space.  Are  not 
the  sympathy,  the  pity,  and  the  love  which  are  engendered  in 
the  hearts  of  the  devout  by  this  belief  the  very  source  of 
moral  life?  It  follows  that  the  most  moral  religions  are 
necessarily  the  most  contagious.  And,  as  I  fail  to  see  how 
any  high  standard  of  morality  can  arise  and  spread  by  any 
other  means  than  an  all-conquering  religion,  I  think  I  am 
justified  in  accepting  the  conclusion  of  history  that  no  great 
civilisation  could  ever  have  existed  without  religious 
proselytism. 

I  may  add  that  without  a  stable  religious  institution,  one 
resting  on  its  conquests,  a  strong  and  original  civilisation  is 
impossible.  By  this  I  mean  a  profoundly  logical  social 


282  Laws  of  Imitation 

state,  from  which,  by  means  of  a  long  and  painful  elabora- 
tion, all  important  contradictions  have  been  banished,  a  state 
where  the  majority  of  elements  are  in  agreement,  and  where 
almost  everything  proceeds  from  the  same  principles  and 
converges  towards  the  same  ends.  It  takes  a  long  time  for 
a  religious  faith  to  recast  in  this  way,  in  its  own  image,  the 
small  or  large  society  which  it  has  been  invading. 

We  do  not  know,  to  be  sure,  how  long  it  took  the  religion 
of  Egypt,  before  the  old  empire,  after  the  indigenous  gods 
of  Memphis,  or  of  some  other  city,  had  spread  the  entire 
length  of  the  Nile  Valley,  to  give  birth  to  Egyptian  civilisa- 
tion. We  are  also  ignorant  of  the  duration  of  the  incuba- 
tion of  Babylonian  civilisation  by  the  primitive  religion 
of  Chaldea,  once  its  gods  had  radiated  throughout  the  sweep 
of  that  once  thickly  peopled  and  highly  fertile  valley.  But  we 
do  know  that  the  cult  of  the  Delphic  Apollo,  the  first  religion 
that  was  common  to  all  the  Doric  and  Ionic  branches  of 
Greece,  dates  from  the  tenth  century,  B.  c.,  and  that  "  the 
climax  of  maturity  and  beauty  "  in  the  art  and  poetry  and 
philosophy  and  statecraft  of  Greece  was  reached  about  the 
sixth  century.  We  also  know  that  the  literature,  archi- 
tecture, philosophy,  and  governmental  system  of  the  Chris- 
tian Middle  Ages  had  just  begun  to  flourish  and  grow 
into  harmony  with  the  law  of  Christ  in  the  eleventh  century 
of  our  era,  four  or  five  hundred  years  after  the  spread  of 
Christianity  through  Europe.  Arabian  civilisation,  born  of 
Mahomet,  required  a  shorter  period  of  gestation,  but  we 
know  how  long  it  lasted. 

It  is  not  true,  then,  that  the  progress  of  civilisation  re- 
sults in  the  side-tracking  of  religion.  It  is  the  essence  of 
religion  to  be  everything  or  nothing.  If  an  established 
religion  falls  behind,  it  is  because  another  religion  has 
slipped  silently  and  unperceived  into  its  place,  and  has  lent 
itself  to  the  setting  up  of  a  new  civilisation  which  will  end 
by  being  just  as  religious  as  the  prior  civilisation  in  its  best 
days.  If,  in  the  beginning  of  societies,  everything  in  the 
most  trivial  thoughts  and  acts  of  man,  from  the  cradle  to 
the  tomb,  is  ritualistic  and  superstitious,  mature  and  consum- 


Extra-Logical  Influences  283 

mate  civilisations  present  the  same  conditions.  It  has  been 
said  that  the  peculiarity  of  Christianity  has  been  its  aloof- 
ness from  statecraft,  in  contrast  to  the  intimate  alliance  of 
the  cults  of  antiquity  with  the  power  of  the  state.  But  this 
feature  is  only  apparent.  In  the  spiritual  and  missionary 
religions  of  modern  days,  as  well  as  in  the  gross  and  exclu- 
sive religions  of  antiquity,  morals  and  dogma  are  in- 
separable; there  is  a  higher  law  for  conduct  as  well  as  for 
thought.  Only,  in  consequence  of  the  external  expansion 
which  results,  as  we  know,  from  its  internal  developments, 
a  religion  ceases  to  be  able  to  regulate  of  itself  all  the  small 
details  of  practical  thought  and  will.  Like  a  ruler  whose 
kingdom  has  grown  more  extensive,  and  whose  administra- 
tion has  become  more  complicated,  it  delegates  to  its 
subalterns  a  part  of  its  twofold  authority  of  teacher  and 
ruler,  leaving  a  certain  amount  of  independence  to  its  dele- 
gates, who  are  pretty  badly  supervised  by  it  because  they  are 
so  far  below  it. 

On  one  side,  then,  religion  abandons  to  kings  and  states- 
men, to  whose  personality  it  is  quite  indifferent,  providing 
they  are  true  believers,  the  care  of  commanding  armies,  of 
levying  taxes,  and  of  making  laws,  on  the  condition  that  they 
attempt  nothing  contrary  to  the  general  precepts  of  its  cate- 
chism, a  sort  of  supreme  constitution.  Thus  religion  be- 
comes the  sovereign  ruler  of  souls  and  the  final  court  of 
appeal  for  anyone  who  has  been  abused  by  secular  power. 
On  another  side,  it  also  allows  inquisitive  and  enquiring 
minds  to  discover  and  formulate  certain  theories  and  natural 
laws,  but  it  allows  this,  of  course,  on  the  condition  of  teach- 
ing nothing  which  openly  contradicts  the  verses  of  its  sacred 
books  or  the  conclusions  drawn  from  its  texts. 

In  short,  the  god  of  the  Christian  or  Moslem  was, 
during  the  whole  of  the  Middle  Ages,  at  least,  the  sole 
teacher  and  master  of  Christianity  or  Islamism,  occupying, 
in  this  particular,  the  same  position  as  the  divine  Lars  of  the 
primitive  family ;  and  the  pope  or  caliph,  the  organ  of  deity, 
taught  and  commanded  as  a  sovereign.  The  only  difference 
between  the  omnipotence  of  savage  or  barbaric  religions 


284  Laws  of  Imitation 

and  that  of  civilised  religions  lies  in  the  fact  that  the  former 
expresses  itself  through  ritual,  the  formal  equivalent  of  that 
period  of  morality;  and  the  second,  through  morality,  the 
spiritual  equivalent  of  ritual.  Ritual  becomes  more  pro- 
found as  it  disguises  itself.  Was  it  not  primitively  the 
supreme  statecraft  of  the  ancients,  the  pre-eminent  military 
and  civil  art  of  diplomacy?  The  armies  of  antiquity  went 
into  action  only  after  they  had  been  stimulated  by  the  cere- 
monies of  the  war  heralds,  by  sacrifices,  and  by  the  sacra- 
mental observations  and  experiments  of  the  augurs.  It  is 
no  exaggeration  to  say  that  the  thrusts  of  lance  and  sword 
that  followed  seemed  to  the  men  of  those  times  to  continue 
as  accessories  the  rites  which  had  preceded  them,  a  sort  of 
sanguinary  sacrament.  Nor,  for  the  same  reason,  did  any 
deliberative  assembly  in  these  same  epochs  enter  into  any 
debate  without  the  sacrifice  of  some  victim  or  the  offering 
up  of  some  prayer  or  the  performance  of  some  rite  of  purifi- 
cation. Voting,  as  well  as  fighting,  was  only  one  way  of 
worshipping  and  praying  to  one's  gods,  of  placating  and 
glorifying  them. 

Later  on,  when  different  cities  and  peoples  come  into 
communication  with  one  another  and  endeavour  to  im- 
pose their  rites,  become  more  simple  in  their  expansion,  upon 
one  another,  a  moment  arrives  when  a  purely  spiritual  cult, 
i.  e.,  morality  as  it  is  understood  by  Christians,  Moslems, 
and  Buddhists,  seems  to  be  the  only  cult  worth  the  name. 
Then  people  say  that  morality  should  dominate  politics  and 
even  soar  over  war.  They  also  say,  and  with  no  less  reason, 
that  it  should  rule  over  art  and  industry.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
religion  has  always  been  implicitly  conceived  of  in  the 
bosom  of  every  religious  people,  not  only  as  a  higher  form 
of  statecraft  and  diplomacy,  but  as  the  first  of  all  arts  and 
the  most  important  of  all  industries.  Architecture,  sculp- 
ture, painting,  poetry,  music,  metal-working,  and  cabinet- 
making,  all  forms  of  art,  arise  from  the  temple  and  issue 
from  it,  like  a  procession,  to  continue  outside  the  solemni- 
ties occurring  within.  To  the  citizens  of  the  Greek  cities  the 
great  hecatombs  were  undoubtedly  great  productions  of 


Extra-Logical  Influences  285 

wealth  and  value,  of  security  and  power.  This  was  in  part 
imaginary,  but  not  wholly  so,  for  it  is  certain  that  faith  is 
power.  What  was  the  petty  labour  of  a  slave  or  an 
artisan  in  comparison  with  those  mystical  works  ?  And,  be- 
sides, there  was  no  important  act  in  the  life  of  a  husbandman, 
or  even  of  an  artisan,  which  did  not  begin  with  the  offering 
up  of  a  prayer  to  the  gods,  or  with  a  procession  of  the 
Arval  Brethren,  or  with  the  sacrifice  of  a  lamb,  so  that  every 
industrial  or  agricultural  task  was  merely  a  prolonged 
prayer  or  sacrifice.  In  a  more  advanced  and  spiritual  civili- 
sation the  same  thing  is  expressed,  at  bottom,  in  saying  that 
work  is  a  form  of  duty,  and  that  the  economic  side  of 
societies,  like  their  political  and  artistic  sides,  is  merely  a 
development  of  their  moral  side. 

Moreover,  on  the  day  when  a  scholar,  like  Galileo,  under- 
takes to  formulate  the  simplest  scientific  law  or  fact  that 
is  contrary  to  the  shortest  verse  of  Sacred  Scripture;  or  on 
the  day  when  a  ruler  publishes  the  pettiest  decree  that  is 
contrary  to  the  most  subordinate  precept  of  an  established 
religion,  an  authorisation,  for  example,  to  sell  meat  during 
a  fast  or  to  work  on  Sunday,  or  on  the  day,  finally,  when 
a  branch  of  industry  or  art  begins  to  flourish  in  a  given 
country,  although  it  is  deemed  immoral  and  impious  by  the 
local  religion,  a  profane  theatre,  for  example,  or  a  free- 
thinking  journal — on  this  very  day,  a  germ  of  dissolution 
has  entered  into  the  social  body,  and  there  is  the  most 
urgent  need  either  for  this  germ  to  be  expelled,  notably  by 
an  inquisition,  or  for  it  to  grow  through  philosophic  or 
revolutionary  or  reform  propagandism,  and  extend  itself 
to  the  point  of  reconstructing  the  social  order  upon  new 
foundations.  This  is  the  point  we  are  at  in  Europe.  It  is 
a  problem  in  social  logic  that  is  set  before  us  by  this  redoubt- 
able dilemma.1  We  do  not  know  how  it  will  be  solved. 
But  we  may  be  certain  that  when  the  order  of  the  future  is 
once  consummated,  unanimous  belief  in  an  indisputable 
truth,  in  an  incontestable  Good  and  Right  will  become  again 

1  May  we  wait  long  for  its  solution !  For  the  sake  of  freedom  of 
thought  may  the  inappreciable  intellectual  anarchy  which  Auguste 
Comte  deplored  be  prolonged! 


286  Laws  of  Imitation 

what  it  once  was,  intense  and  intolerant.  And  science,  trans- 
figured by  a  vast  synthesis  and  supplemented  by  a  highly 
aesthetic  morality,  will  be  the  religion  of  the  future,  before 
which  all  professors  and  statesmen,  all  minds  and  wills, 
will  humbly  bow. 

The  omnipotence  and  omnipresence  of  religion  in  all 
functions  of  society  justify  the  exceptional  place  which  reli- 
gion has  been  accorded  in  this  chapter.  But  this  considera- 
tion must  not  prevent  us  at  present  from  examining  rapidly 
and  separately  the  fragmentary  and  secondary  governments 
that  rule  with  the  consent  of  religion, — although  not  with- 
out a  threatening  kind  of  independence, — namely,  the  phi- 
losophy of  certain  periods  on  the  one  side  and,  on  the 
other,  the  government,  in  the  usual  sense  of  the  word, 
and  the  legislation  and  custom  of  all  periods.  When 
an  accredited  philosophic  system  arises  in  a  serious- 
minded  nation,  it  stands  in  the  same  relation  towards 
religious  dogma  as  a  form  of  government,  a  body 
of  law,  or  the  sum  of  people's  wants  stands  in  any 
country  towards  its  religious  morality.  The  one  is  the 
foundation-stone  of  thought,  the  other  of  conduct.  But  this 
does  not  prevent  the  frequent  occurrence  of  conflicts  be- 
tween the  suzerain,  or  so-called  suzerain  authority,  and 
those  authorities  that  are  vassal  to  it.  Struggles  between 
philosophies  and  theologies  correspond  to  those  between 
empires  and  priesthoods.  Besides,  if  it  is  true  that  religion 
controls  civilisation  in  its  entirety  and  moulds  it  after  itself, 
it  is  no  less  certain  that  the  temporarily  prevailing  •  philos- 
ophy directs  and  develops  its  own  science,  or  that  the 
established  government  directs  and  develops  its  own  politics 
and  war,  or  that  legislation  and  custom  determine  the  course 
and  character  of  industry.  Let  us  see  whether  the  transition 
from  custom  to  fashion  and  vice  versa  occurs  here  as  above, 
and  whether  it  produces  like  effects.  In  any  case,  let  us 
refrain,  for  lack  of  space,  from  touching  upon  the  philo- 
sophic and  scientific  sides  of  societies,  an  undertaking  that 
would  require  a  separate  volume.  Let  us  pass  on  to  the 
practical  side. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  287 

III.  Government 

All  the  foregoing  remarks  amount  to  saying  that  in  the 
beginning  the  family,  or  the  pseudo- family  that  grew  up  by 
the  side  of  it,  was  the  only  social  group,  and  that  every 
subsequent  change  resulted  in  lessening  its  importance  in 
this  respect  by  constituting  new  and  more  ample  groups 
which  were  formed  artificially,  at  the  expense  of  the  social 
side  of  families,  and  which  reduced  them  to  mere  physio- 
logical expressions;  but  that,  finally,  such  dismembered 
families  tended  to  aggregate  into  a  kind  of  enlarged  family 
that  was  both  natural  and  social  like  the  original  family, 
except  that  the  physiological  characteristics,  which  were 
transmitted  through  heredity,  existed  mainly  to  facilitate 
the  transmission  through  imitation  of  the  elements  of  civili- 
sation, and  not  vice  versa.  In  fact,  we  have  already  seen 
from  the  linguistic  point  of  view  that  in  very  remote  pre- 
historic times  every  family  must  have  had  its  own  language, 
and  that  later  on  a  single  language  embraced  thousands  of 
families  who  finally,  because  of  the  greater  facility  for 
connubittm  between  speakers  of  the  same  tongue,  gave  birth 
to  one  race.  Thus  every  tongue  eventually  had  its  own  race, 
i.  e.,  its  own  great  family,  whereas,  primitively,  every 
family,  as  I  have  said,  possessed  its  own  tongue.  We  have 
also  seen  how,  in  the  question  of  religion,  every  family  had 
originally  its  own  cult  and  was  a  church  in  itself,  but  who, 
later  on,  the  same  cult  united  thousands  of  families  who, 
finally,  through  the  more  or  less  strict  interdiction  of  mar- 
riage with  infidels  and  the  exclusive  practice  of  connubium, 
combined  into  one  race  that  was  expressly  created  for  its 
religion. 

We  can  now  see  from  the  point  of  view  of  government  an 
analogous  series  of  transformations.  In  the  beginning  every 
family  formed  a  distinct  state;  then  followed  a  state  which 
contained  thousands  of  families,  welded  together  by  a  purely 
artificial  tie,  and,  finally,  every  state  made  its  own  nation, 
*.  e.,  its  particular  race  or  sub-race,  its  own  family. 


288  Laws  of  Imitation 

On  this  point,  I  might  repeat  what  Fustel  de  Coulanges 
and  Sumner  Maine  have  said  so  well  about  the  gradual 
transformation  of  the  patria  potestas  into  the  imperium  of 
the  Roman  magistracy,  about  the  primordial  union  and  the 
progressive  separation  of  the  power  to  procreate  and  the 
power  to  command.  But  I  will  not  bore  the  reader  with 
this.  I  prefer  to  observe  that  it  is  proper  to  round  off 
this  point  of  view  by  admitting  that  from  the  com- 
mencement of  history,  or  even  pre-history,  artificial  states 
were  formed  through  a  general  infatuation  for  some  re- 
nowned chief  or  brigand,  and  enlarged  by  those  who  had 
broken  loose  from  surrounding  families.  Cities  of  refuge, 
like  early  Rome  and  the  free  cities  of  the  Middle  Ages,  can 
give  us  some  idea  of  these  primitive  aggregates.  They 
were,  perhaps,  or  rather  undoubtedly,  the  first  cities,  prop- 
erly speaking.  And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  urban  element, 
which  has  co-existed  from  the  earliest  time  with  the  rural 
element,  has  always  been  distinguished  by  its  predominant 
and  widespread  spirit  of  innovation,  compared  with  the  con- 
servative spirit  of  the  latter.  We  may  infer  that  these  orig- 
inal collections  of  undisciplined  people  have  been  the  most 
active  centres  for  war  and  conquests  and  that,  consequently, 
although  all  the  scourges  born  of  war  may  be  imputed  to 
them,  yet  theirs  is  the  honour  of  having  created  great  na- 
tional agglomerations,  the  eventual  guarantee  of  wealth 
and  peace. 

In  addition,  we  may  see  that  custom  and  fashion  are 
everywhere  embodied  politically  in  two  great  parties  whose 
alternating  strife  and  triumph  explain  all  political  advances. 
In  fact,  there  are  never  more  than  two  opposing  parties, 
however  subdivided  they  may  be.  Their  names  differ  in 
different  countries  and  at  different  times,  but  the  one  may 
be  called,  without  impropriety,  the  party  of  conservatism, 
and  the  other  the  party  of  innovation.  Among  seaboard 
populations,  their  rivalry  is  usually  expressed  through  that 
between  agricultural  interests,  such  as  Aristides,  the  con- 
servative, personified  at  Athens,  and  maritime  interests 
such  as  were  embodied  in  the  innovator,  Themistocles. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  289 

Among  continental  populations,  the  rivalry  is  between  com- 
merce and  agriculture,  between  towns  and  country  districts, 
between  artisans  and  peasants.  Now,  it  is  fairly  clear  that 
the  strife  between  conservatives  and  liberals,  which  is  as 
ancient  as  history  and  which  had  already  begun  in  the 
bosom  of  the  primitive  family  or  tribe,  always  leads  back  to 
that  between  custom  and  fashion.  The  progressive  party 
welcomes  with  its  whole  heart  the  new  ideas,  the  new  rights, 
and  the  new  products  that  are  imported  over  land  or  sea 
and  imitated  as  foreign  models,  whereas  the  party  of  tradi- 
tion resists  them  with  all  the  weight  of  the  ideas  and 
customs  and  industries  which  it  has  inherited  from  its  fore- 
fathers. More  specifically,  the  party  of  innovators  desires 
to  modify  the  political  constitution  of  its  country,  in  con- 
formity with  tHe  theories  which  have  been  suggested  to  it 
by  the  sight  of  outside  governments  and  which,  in  spite  of, 
or  by  reason  of,  this  very  suggestion,  a  more  or  less  uncon- 
scious one,  seem  applicable,  through  imitation,  to  all  the 
peoples  of  the  earth.  The  Tory  party,  on  the  contrary,  de- 
sires people  to  respect  and  maintain  unaltered  the  form  of 
government  which  prevailed  in  the  past.1  We  know  that 

1  At  any  given  period  there  will  always  seem  to  be,  among  the  most 
prominent  communities,  one  to  embody  the  spirit  of  conservatism,  and 
another,  the  spirit  of  novelty.  But  if  we  go  back  to  the  past  of  each, 
we  shall  see  the  contrast  reversed.  In  our  own  days,  the  antithesis 
tias  been  represented  until  recently  by  England  and  France,  just  as 
in  ancient  Greece  it  was  represented  by  the  conservative  Dorians  and 
the  innovating  lonians.  This  has  been  repeated  ad  nauseam.  Boutmy 
writes  in  his  Etudes  de  droit  constitutionnel,  that  "  in  France  a 
natural  and  immediate  authority  is  given  to  those  ideas  (political) 
which  are  sentimentally  based  upon  the  unity  of  mankind  in  general. 
In  England  it  is  given  to  those  ideas  that  are  sentimentally  based  upon 
ties  with  preceding  generations.  We  are  content  only  with  a  broad 
and  extensive  conception  which  everybody  may  share  with  us,  and 
before  whose  articles  of  universal  legislation  all  will  bow.  The 
English  are  satisfied  with  a  narrow  and  intensive  conception  in  which 
the  centuries  of  their  national  life  are  seen  in  perspective,  one  after 
the  other." 

In  other  words,  we  enthuse  over  ideas  which  are  capable  of  spread- 
ing through  free  and  external  imitation,  since  we  have  generally  re- 
ceived them  ourselves  through  this  kind  of  imitation ;  whereas,  our 
neighbours  care  only  for  those  ideas  which  are  and  which  can  only 
be  transmitted  through  an  exclusive  and  hereditary  form  of  imitation. 


290  Laws  of  Imitation 

whenever  and  wherever  a  conflict  arises  between  these  two 
parties,  it  is  because  a  liberal  party  that  has  been  stimulated 
or  awakened  by  contact  with  an  outer  and  a  more  brilliant 
world  has  reappeared  in  the  midst  of  a  people  who  have 
been  unwittingly  traditional,  and  has  aroused  the  conserva- 
tive party,  i.  e.,  the  immense  majority,  to  self-consciousness. 
This  means  that  at  first  custom  held  sway  here  alone,  or 
almost  alone,  but  that  at  this  point  fashion  has  begun  to 
replace  it. 

Meanwhile  fashion  grows,  and  the  party  which  represents 
it  and  which  was  at  first  defeated  ends  by  getting  the  inno- 
vations which  it  extols,  accepted.  The  result  of  this  is  that 
the  world  makes  a  step  in  advance  towards  international 
political  assimilation.  This  assimilation  goes  on  even  when 
political  agglomeration,  which  is  a  different  thing,  is  static 
or  retrogressive.  Indeed,  even  during  antiquity  and  the 
Middle  Ages,  the  uniformity  of  government  which  accom- 
panies or  heralds  governmental  unity  was  always  brought 
about  on  any  given  territory — the  territory  being  at  one 
time  very  small  and  then  becoming  more  and  more  exten- 
sive— by  the  triumph  of  some  innovating  party.  Dating 

But,  it  may  be  said  in  passing,  that  English  parliamentarism  is  not 
precluded  by  its  original  character  from  communicating  itself  from 
one  people  to  another,  travelling  by  means  of  the  freest  and  most 
general  kind  of  contagion  that  has  ever  been  seen.  Then,  we  know 
that  in  the  seventeenth  century,  England  personified  the  spirit  of 
revolution  in  comparison  with  monarchical  France;  and,  now,  after  a 
rest  of  two  centuries,  do  we  not  feel  that  the  revolutionary  yeast  is 
working  on  British  soil,  thanks  to  the  germs  of  radical  or  socialistic 
ideas  that  have  been  introduced  from  the  Continent?  It  may  easily 
happen  that  when  this  crisis  is  raging  among  the  islanders  across 
the  Channel,  the  foundation  of  a  national  government  will  be  finally 
laid  in  France. 

Let  me  add  that  the  distinction  which  M.  Boutmy  draws  between 
those  constitutions'  which  explicitly  aspire  to  universality  and  those 
which  are  content  to  last  during  the  life  of  a  given  race  or  nation, 
suggests  the  distinction  between  open  and  proselyting  religions  and 
exclusive  and  non-proselyting  religions.  According  to  this  analogy^ 
the  French  system  holds  the  future  in  its  hands,  since  proselyting  re- 
ligions always  have  the  advantage  of  their  rivals.  But  just  as  the 
most  expansive  cult  finally  settles  down  and  closes  its  doors,  the  most 
cosmopolitan  system  of  government  ends,  as  we  shall  see,  by  becoming, 
in  its  turn,  an  ancestral  custom. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  291 

from  the  heroic  period  of  Greece  we  can  find  certain  traces 
of  the  breath  of  fashion  blowing  from  time  to  time  across 
communities  who  were  supposed  to  be  among  those  most 
custom-bound.  It  is  very  surprising,  for  example,  to  find 
the  Dorians,  who  are  such  a  tradition-bound  race  at  the 
moment  when  history  throws  her  light  upon  them,  governed 
by  certain  institutions  which  were  imported  from  Crete  by 
the  foreigner  Lycurgus,  and  subject,  moreover,  to  non- 
Dorian  royal  families.  Can  these  facts  be  otherwise  ex- 
plained than  by  presupposing  some  anterior  age  in  which 
foreign  prestige  swayed  this  nation,  a  nation  which  subse- 
quently succumbed  again  to  the  prestige  of  its  forefathers  ? 

The  second  fact  referred  to  is  in  no  sense  exceptional;  on 
the  contrary,  it  frequently  occurs.  The  Greek  historian' 
Curtius  cites,  in  this  connection,  the  government  of  the 
Molossians  by  the  Oacidae,  of  the  Macedonians  by  the  Te- 
menidae,  of  the  Lyncestae  by  the  Bacchiadse,  of  the  loniana 
by  the  Lycians,  etc.,  just  as  the  Swedes  are  governed  in  our 
own  day  by  the  successors  of  Bernadotte.  This  prestige  of 
the  foreigner,  therefore,  has  been  general  at  times  from  the 
most  remote  periods.  It  must  have  gone  very  deep  if  we 
admit,  with  the  learned  author  whom  I  have  cited,  that 
belief  in  the  divine  extraction  of  kings  is  explained  by  their 
foreign  origin.  Since  their  home  vanishes  into  a  distant 
unknown  region,  "  they  might  be  accounted  sons  of  the 
gods,  an  honour  which  natives  could  scarcely  have  received 
from  their  countrymen."  Besides,  wherever  we  see  primi- 
tive families  loyal  subjects  to  one  of  their  own  number,  or 
even  to  one  of  their  own  race,  we  must  infer  that  this  privi- 
leged family  owes  its  supremacy  to  a  more  or  less  ephemeral 
infatuation  by  which  admiration  of  ancestors  has  been 
momentarily  eclipsed.  But,  although  family  sentiment  may 
be  broken  for  a  time  by  the  advent  of  some  dynasty  in  this 
way,  it  is  subsequently  awakened  and  magnified  under  the 
name  of  civic  spirit  or  patriotism. 

If  we  find  that  in  the  tenth  century  Europe  was  covered 
with  thousands  of  little  states,  called  seigniories,  that  were 
i  [Ward's  translation,  I,  147.— Tr.] 


292  Laws  of  Imitation 

all  pretty  much  alike  in  their  feudal  constitution,  whose 
originality  was  as  striking  as  their  resemblance  in  the  midst 
of  their  diversity,  we  cannot  doubt  that  the  typical  fief, 
wherever  it  originated,  was  copied  by  the  intelligent  liberals 
of  the  time  and  imposed  by  them  upon  recalcitrant  reaction- 
aries like  the  Gallo-Roman  senators  or  others.  The  fief 
was  at  that  time  the  great  fruitful  novelty,  the  model  to 
which  the  royal  power  itself  came  to  conform  after,  as  we 
have  seen  already  it  had  likewise  suggested  it.  Before  that 
the  king  had  vaguely  associated  his  authority  with  that  of 
the  ancient  Roman  emporors,  the  traditional  type  of  sover- 
eign power  in  the  popular  mind.  It  seemed  as  if  the  very 
essence  of  this  supremacy  lay  in  universal  dominion  or  in 
the  dream  of  it.  But  Hugues  Capet  was  inspired  with 
what  might  be  called  an  idea  of  genius,  a  very  simple  idea 
withal.  Instead  of  looking  behind  him  in  the  Roman  Em- 
pire for  his  ideal,  he  took  it  from  his  own  neighbourhood. 
According  to  Sumner  Maine,  he  is  the  prototype  and  the 
initiator  of  strictly  feudal,  non-imperial  royalty.  "  Hugues 
Capet  and  his  descendants  were  kings  of  France  in  an 
entirely  new  sense;  they  had  the  same  relations  to  the  soil 
of  France  as  the  baron  held  towards  his  fief  and  the  vassal 
towards  his  land."  The  invention,  in  short,  consisted 
merely  in  modelling  sovereignty  upon  suzerainty  and  in  ex- 
tending over  the  entire  territory  of  a  great  nation  the  feudal 
relations  which  had  hitherto  been  confined  to  the  petty 
limits  of  a  canton.  Witness,  nevertheless,  its  success.  "  All 
subsequent  sovereignty  was  based  on  this  new  model.  The 
sovereignty  of  the  Norman  kings,  copied  from  that  of  the 
kings  of  France,  was  positively  territorial.  Territorial 
rulers  were  established  in  Spain,  in  Naples,  and  in  all  the 
Italian  principalities  which  were  founded  upon  the  ruins  of 
municipal  liberties."1 

In  modern  times  the  contagion  of  another  master- 
thought,  of  one  which  was  in  contradiction  to  the  preceding, 
and  which  was  forced  to  dethrone  it  in  order  to  propagate 

1  Similarly,   ecclesiastical   administration   took   on   an   imperial   garb 
during  the  Empire,  and  a  feudal  one  during  the  Middle  Ages. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  293 

itself,  has  spread  still  more  rapidly,  namely,  the  idea  of  the 
state  as  we  understand  it  to-day.  Where  was  modern  state- 
craft born?  In  the  petty  Italian  republics,  and,  first  of  all, 
in  Florence,  whence  the  modern  type  of  political  activity 
spread  to  France  and  Spain  and  Germany  and  even  to 
England.  Spain  and  France,  in  particular,  who  disputed 
for  such  a  long  time  over  Italy,  "  began,"  says  Burckhardt, 
"  to  resemble  the  centralised  Italian  states,  and,  indeed,  to 
copy  them,  only  on  a  gigantic  scale."  *  Upon  this  fashion 
is  grafted  in  the  eighteenth  century  2  a  fashion  which  does 
not  contradict  it  in  any  way,  but  which  completes  it.  Anglo- 
mania becomes  the  rage.  The  parliamentary  constitution 
of  England  began  to  be  copied  before  its  general  diffusion 
in  the  nineteenth  century,  under  two  original  forms,  first 
by  the  United  States,  which  made  a  simple  republican  trans- 
lation of  it,  as  Sumner  Maine  has  shown  in  his  Popular 
Government,  and  then  by  revolutionary  France,  which 
hastened  to  drive  parliamentarism  into  Rousseau-inspired 
radicalism.  This  last  transformation,  whose  dawn  was 
greeted  as  a  marvellous  creation,  called  forth  I  do  not  know 
how  many  ephemeral  republics  in  South  America,  over- 
whelmed the  Old  World  and  reacted  even  upon  British  soil. 
One  of  the  most  remarkable  traits  of  the  liberal  party 
and,  consequently,  of  those  times  in  which  that  party  rules, 
is  the  cosmopolitan  character  of  its  aspirations.  Cosmopol- 
itanism, indeed,  is  not  the  exclusive  privilege  of  our  own 
time.  It  flourished  in  all  those  periods  of  antiquity  and 
medievalism  in  which  fashion-imitation  held  sway.  "  Cos- 
mopolitanism," says  Burckhardt,  "  is  ...  a  sign  of  an 

1  [Middlemorers  translation,  I,   128. — Tr.] 

2  The   eighteenth   century   inaugurated   the   reign   of   fashion   on   a 
large  scale.    This  fact  is  very  evident  in  the  particulars  of  morals  and 
institutions   of  this   century.     At  this  time,  for  example,  the  secret  ballot 
came  into  use  in  municipal  elections,  and  M.  Albert  Babeau  tells  us  (in 
his  work  on  the  city  of  the  old  regime)  that  this  was  a  fashion.     He 
adds  that  already  in  the  sixteenth  century — another  age  of  invading 
fashions — the  corporation  of  Angers  had  adopted  this  manner  of  vot- 
ing, justifying  itself  by  the  usages  at  "the  elections  of   senators  at 
Venice,  Genoa,  Milan,  and  Rome."     "  So  alert  and  eager  for  models 
was  the  municipal  spirit  at  this  time ! " 


294  Laws  of  Imitation 

epoch  in  which  new  worlds  are  discovered  and  men  feel  no 
longer  at  home  in  the  old.  We  see  it  among  the  Greeks 
after  the  Peloponnesian  War ; *  Plato,  as  Niebuhr  says,  was 
not  a  good  citizen.  .  .  .  Diogenes  went  so  far  as  to  pro- 
claim homelessness  a  pleasure  and  calls  himself,  .  .  . 
anokiS.  *  The  Italians  of  the  Renascence  were  cosmo- 
politan even  before  the  fifteenth  century,  not  merely  because 
they  had  become  habituated  to  their  exile,  but  because  their 
epoch  and  their  country  abounded  in  innovations  of  every 
kind  and  because  people's  minds  were  turned  towards 
foreign  and  contemporary  things  even  more  than  towards 
the  domestic  and  patriotic  things  of  their  past.  The  weaken- 
ing of  French  patriotism  in  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth 
centuries  is  notorious.  Let  us  call  to  mind  the  monstrous 
foreign  alliances  that  were  made  by  the  different  parties 
during  the  religious  wars  and  the  compliments  of  Voltaire 
to  the  King  of  Prussia  after  Rosbach.  Even  Herder  and 
Fichte,  who  became  such  ardent  patriots  under  the  heel  of 
the  conqueror,  began  by  holding  the  idea  of  fatherland  in 
contempt.  In  contemporary  Germany  and  France  it  has 
taken  the  evident  necessity  of  armed  defence  to  restore  to 
national  sentiment  some  part  of  its  old-time  vigour. 

But  does  everything  terminate  in  the  victory  of  fashion 
over  routine?  Not  at  all.  This  victory  is  itself  incom- 
plete until  the  conservative  party,  resigned  to  its  defeat 
and  to  taking  a  subordinate  place,  transforms  itself  into 
a  national  party  and  set  itself  to  making  the  sap  of  tra- 
dition circulate  in  the  new  graft  of  progress.  This  na- 
tionalisation of  foreign  elements  is  the  completion  of  the 
historical  drama  which  contact  with  different  or  superior 
neighbouring  civilisations  unfolds.  Thus  the  feudal  king- 
doms which  were  founded  by  fashion  on  the  model  of  the 
Capetian  monarchy  became  national  and  traditional  in  the 
highest  degree. 

The  stream  of  custom  returns,  then,  to  its  channel — sin- 
gularly enlarged,  to  be  sure — and  a  new  cycle  begins.  It 

1  In  reality  it  must  have  appeared  many  times  long  before  this. 

2  [Ibid.,  187,  footnote  3.— Tr.] 


Extra-Logical  Influences  295 

spins  itself  out  and  ends  like  its  predecessors.  And  this 
will  undoubtedly  continue  until  the  political  uniformity  and 
unity  of  the  whole  human  genus  are  achieved.  The  innovat- 
ing party  plays,  then,  in  all  of  this,  only  a  transitory,  al- 
though an  indispensable,  part.  It  serves  as  a  mediator  be- 
tween the  spirit  of  comparatively  narrow  conservatism 
which  precedes  it  and  the  spirit  of  comparatively  liberal 
conservatism  which  follows  it.  (Consequently,  traditional- 
ism should  no  longer  be  opposed  to  liberalism.  From  our 
point  of  view  the  two  are  inseparable.^  Without  hereditary 
imitation,  without  conservative  tradition,  any  invention  or 
novelty  that  was  introduced  by  a  liberal  party  would  perish 
still-born,  for  the  latter  is  related  to  the  former  like  shadow 
to  substance,  or,  rather,  like  a  light  to  its  lamp.  The  most 
radical  revolutions  seek  to  be  traditionalised,  so  to  speak, 
and,  reciprocally,  at  the  source  of  the  most  rigid  tradi- 
tions we  find  some  revolutionary  condition.  The  object  of 
every  historic  transformation  seems  to  be  to  debouch  in  an 
immense  and  potent  and  final  custom,  where  free  and  vig- 
orous imitation  will  finally  unite  the  greatest  possible  in- 
tensiveness  to  the  greatest  possible  extensiveness. 

Let  me  continue  this  subject  in  order  to  remark  that  the 
pursuit  of  this  ideal  is  accomplished  along  the  line  of  a 
rhythmical  repetition  of  the  same  phases  upon  a  scale  of  in- 
creasing size.  In  the  transition  from  the  primitive  govern- 
ment of  the  family  to  tribal  government,  societies  must  have 
passed  through  exactly  the  same  periods  as  contemporary 
societies  are  painfully  traversing  in  order  to  pass  from  their 
systems  of  national  government  to  the  continental  govern- 
ment of  the  future.  Meanwhile,  the  foundations  of  munici- 
pal government  and,  then,  of  the  government  of  small  states 
or  provinces,  and,  last  of  all,  of  the  government  of  nations, 
all  required  the  same  series  of  efforts.  To  understand  how 
each  of  these  successive  and  intermittent  enlargements  of 
the  political  aggregates  of  the  past  took  place,  we  should 
observe  the  manner  in  which  modern  political  aggrandise- 
ments are  effected.  The  little  American  republics  which 
were  to  become  the  United  States,  lived  separate  and  inde- 


296  Law   of  Imitation 

pendent.  One  day  a  common  danger  brought  them  to- 
gether and  their  union  was  proclaimed.  The  war  which 
was  the  occasion  of  this  great  event  was  merely  an  historic 
accident,  like  the  wars  for  conquest  or  independence 
which,  during  the  course  of  history,  have  occasioned,  have 
hastened,  or  retarded,  but  in  no  sense  caused,  the  really 
stable  extensions  of  the  state  from  the  family-state  to 
the  nation-state.  The  American  Union,  then,  was  de- 
creed; but  what  made  it  possible  and  lasting?  What  was 
the  cause  that  not  only  necessitated  this  federal  tie,  but 
that  still  works  to  make  it  closer,  day  by  day,  a  cause  that 
will  eventually  bring  forth  unity  out  of  union  ?  Tocqueville 
will  tell  us.  "  In  the  English  colonies  of  the  North,  more 
generally  known  as  the  States  of  New  England,  the  two  or 
three  main  ideas  which  now  constitute  the  basis  of  the 
social  theory  of  the  United  States  were  first  combined. 
The  principles  of  New  England  spread  at  first  to  the 
neighbouring  states;  they  then  passed  successively  to 
the  more  distant  ones;  and,  at  last,  if  I  may  so  speak, 
they  interpenetrated  the  whole  confederation.  They 
now  extend  their  influence  beyond  their  limits,  over  the 
whole  American  world.  The  civilisation  of  New  Eng- 
land1 has  been  like  a  beacon  lit  upon  a  hill,  which,  after 
it  has  diffused  its  warmth  immediately  around  it,  also  tinges 
the  distant  horizon  with  its  glow." 2  It  is  cer- 
tain that  if  each  of  the  United  States  had  remained 
faithful  to  the  constitution  of  its  fathers,  if  it  had  not 
welcomed  the  two  or  three  foreign  ideas  which  were 
formulated  by  a  small  group  of  neighbouring  states,  the  po- 
litical similarity  of  all  these  states,  which  alone  made  possi- 
ble their  political  fusion,  would  never  have  existed.  Fash- 
ion-imitation was,  then,  the  cause  of  this  progress.  I  may 
add  that  the  ideas  which  were  imported  in  this  way  into  a 
majority  of  the  United  States  were  so  fully  acclimatised 

1  The  author  gives  us  the  reason  of  its  pre-eminent  contagiousness. 
The  colonists  of  New  England,  the  Puritan  immigrants,  were  the  only 
people  to  cross  the  ocean  to  work  for  an  idea. 

*  [Reeve's  translation,  I,  37. — TV.] 


Extra-Logical  Influences  297 

in  them  as  to  become  part  and  parcel  of  their  primitive  cus- 
toms. The  final  result  was  a  collective  patriotism  which  was 
not  less  intense  or  less  traditional  or  self-assertive  than  their 
original  forms  of  patriotism. 

If  the  great  American  federation  has  just  originated 
in  this  way.  under  our  very  eyes,  we  ought  to  believe  that 
the  origin  of  the  little  Greek  federation  was  not  very  differ- 
ent. The  innumerable  municipal  republics  scattered 
through  Greece  and  the  Archipelago  were  almost  exact 
copies  of  the  two  principal  types,  the  Dorian  and  the 
Ionian.  Evidently  the  resemblance  which  prompted  them 
to  unite  on  all  occasions,  could  not  be  explained  by  the  mere 
fact  of  colonisation  by  common  mother-cities ;  such  a  propa- 
gation through  heredity  must  have  been  followed  by  a  pro- 
pagation through  imitation,  and  it  was  this  that  inaugurated 
a  new  era  of  Greek  civilisation.  Then  Sparta  and  Athens, 
like  fires  lit  up  in  lofty  places,  as  Tocqueville  says,  radiated 
abroad.  Here  was  fashion-imitation;  and  when  fashion 
became  settled  and  imbedded,  it  represented  to  all  the  cities 
a  common  national  custom  which  inspired  the  liveliest  and 
most  hereditary  patriotic  sentiment  that  had  ever  been  seen. 
But,  if  we  consider  each  of  these  little  cities  apart  in  its 
deep  attachment  to  its  original  institutions,  before  the  as- 
similation of  which  I  am  speaking,  and  question  how  the 
different  tribes  of  which  it  was  composed  came  themselves 
to  federate  and  form  a  city,  we  shall  find  no  other  reason 
but  that  of  their  pre-existing  similarity,  a  similarity  which 
had  been  effected  by  the  radiant  brilliancy  of  one  of 
their  number,  voluntarily  or  coercively  copied  by  the 
others. 

These  periods  of  brilliancy  towards  which  the  eyes  of  the 
historians  turn  of  their  own  accord,  the  age  of  Pericles,  the 
age  of  Augustus,  the  age  of  Louis  XIV,  are  characterised, 
in  common,  by  the  introduction,  after  an  era  of  sudden 
innovations  and  rapid  annexations  and  assimilations,  of  a 
new  form  of  society  and  the  inauguration  of  a  new  tra- 
dition. After  language  has  been  subject  to  change  for  a 
long  time,  it  becomes  fixed  in  a  mould  which  is  hencefor- 


298  Laws  of  Imitation 

ward  respected.  After  many  changes  have  been  produced 
in  religion  by  an  over-hospitable  welcoming  of  alien  ideas, 
it  is  re-established  and  reorganised.  After  great  upheav- 
als, political  institutions,  remodelled  and  reorganised,  take 
root  anew.  After  innumerable  gropings  in  the  dark,  art,  in 
all  its  branches,  finds  its  classical  direction,  and  hencefor- 
ward maintains  itself  in  it.  After  a  chaos  of  ordinances, 
decrees,  and  laws,  legislation  codifies  and  ossifies  itself,  so  to 
speak.  In  this  respect,  Pericles,  although  he  was  the  head 
of  a  democratic  state  and  of  the  most  stirring  one  of  an- 
cient peoples,  resembles  Augustus  and  Louis  XIV.  Under 
him,  all  those  elements  of  Athenian  civilisation,  which  were 
disorganised  in  consequence  of  the  great  current  of  fashion- 
imitation  which  had  preceded  him,  and  which,  more- 
ever,  was  never  interrupted  for  long  in  the  Greek  world, 
given  over,  as  it  was,  to  an  intermixture  of  commercial  and 
maritime  civilisations,  came  into  logical  agreement  like  that 
of  the  elements  of  Latin  and  of  French  civilisation, 
under  the  two  great  emulators  of  Periclean  glory,  subse- 
quently to  the  troublous  times  which  had  disorganised 
the  Roman  Republic,  before  the  advent  of  the  one,  and 
French  society  before  that  of  the  other.  Then  the  Attic 
dialect  began  to  spread  everywhere,  and  to  impose  its  co- 
lonial empire  upon  every  one;  and  in  its  spread  and  con- 
solidation it  became  fixed  as  the  immortal  language  of  the 
whole  of  subsequent  antiquity.  Then,  too,  sculpture  and 
dramatic  poetry  attained  their  apogee,  their  exemplary  per- 
fection. And  then,  finally,  government  and  finance  took  a 
truly  permanent  and  conservative  stand.  For,  although 
Pericles  inclined  towards  intellectual  novelties  and  wel- 
comed foreign  writers  and  thinkers,  he  was  as  conserva- 
tive as  Augustus  and  Louis  XIV,  each  of  whom  was  the 
patron  and  abettor  of  the  intellectual  and  artistic  life  which 
he  welcomed  in  order  to  appropriate  it  to  himself. 

Now,  it  is  clear  that  if  a  return  is  made  to  tradition  dur- 
ing these  epochs  of  great  men,  or  of  great  reigns,  it  is  to 
an  enlarged  tradition,  to  a  tradition  that  has  been  enlarged 
in  two  ways,  by  the  extension  of  the  territory  over  which 


Extra-Logical  Influences  299 

it  rules,  and  by  the  elaboration  of  the  elements  of  which  it 
is  composed.  Before  Pericles,  Athens  was  merely  a  greater 
and  more  illustrious  city  than  the  other  Greek  cities.  Dur- 
ing his  time  it  became  the  capital  of  a  fairly  vast  empire, 
whose  life  depended  upon  its  life,  and  the  intensity  and 
complexity  of  this  life  was  quite  a  different  thing  from 
that  of  the  early  centuries  of  Athens. 

We  have  seen  how  the  great  centuries  of  which  I  am 
speaking  may  be  considered  under  two  aspects;  in  the  first 
place,  as  the  time  when  a  new  logical  equilibrium  is  reached 
through  what  I  have  called  the  grammar  in  contrast  to  the 
dictionary  of  the  elements  of  civilisation;  in  the  second  place, 
as  the  point  of  departure  for  a  new  era  of  traditional  life. 
But  these  two  aspects  are  bound  together,  for  it  is  because 
innovations,  introduced  by  the  breath  of  fashion,  have  be- 
come harmonised,  that  they  have  subsequently  become  im- 
bedded as  customs.  The  proof  that  they  have  been  harmo- 
nised is  visible  in  the  symmetrical  and  even  artificial  air 
which  all  the  creations  of  such  memorable  epochs  take  on. 
In  them,  political  administrations  are  uniform  and  central- 
ised. In  them,  the  streets  and  squares  of  cities  are  trans- 
formed into  geometric  symmetry.  For  example,  when 
Pericles  rebuilt  Sybaris  under  the  name  of  Thurii,  Curtius 
tells  us  that  the  city  "  was  laid  out  on  the  plan  of  the 
Piraeaus,"  that  "  four  principal  roads  ran  from  end  to  end 
and  three  from  side  to  side."  We  can  read  in  Babeau, 
La  Ville  sous  I'ancien  regime,  of  the  transformations  a  la 
Haussmann,  which  were  effected  in  all  the  cities  of  France 
under  Louis  XIV,  and  we  can  compare  all  of  this  with  what 
Roman  archaeology  teaches  us  about  post-Augustan  cities. 
Besides,  although  the  austere  and  autocratic  Pericles,  the 
descendant  of  an  illustrious  family,  a  kind  of  republican 
Pitt,  desired  maritime  grandeur  and  imperial  expansion  for 
Athens,  he  jealously  opposed  the  introduction  of  the  alien 
into  the  city  as  a  member  of  the  civic  body.  On  this  point, 
he  reverted,  Curtius  tells  us,  "  to  antique,  severe,  and  archaic 
legislation."  He  governed  democratically,  but  he  sup- 
pressed all  democratic  principles,  i.  e.,  "  rotation  in  office, 


300  Laws  of  Imitation 

division  of  authority,  and  even  responsibility  in  public  of- 
fice." Like  Augustus,  he  concentrated  in  his  own  person 
all  the  functions  of  the  Republic,  and  out  of  them  he  made 
himself  a  sovereign  power. 

However,  he  had  nothing  in  common  with  the  ancient 
tyrants  but  appearances.  The  tyrant  was  far  from  repre- 
senting or  favouring  the  conservatism  of  custom;  in  spite 
of  his  despotism,  he  favoured  those  currents  of  foreign  fash- 
ion which  dissolved  national  traditions,  his  great  stum- 
bling block.  Pericles,  on  the  contrary,  inaugurated  a 
return  to  the  life  of  tradition,  because  it  was  to  his  in- 
terest. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  Pericles,  in  imposing  his  au- 
thority and  in  stamping  his  seal  upon  the  institutions  of  his 
country,  created  that  desire  of  a  more  national  and  tradi- 
tional life  by  which  he  profited  for  the  time  being — too 
short  a  time,  unfortunately.  The  Persian  wars,  like  all 
warlike  crises,  had  revived  the  sentiment  of  nationality  (but 
of  an  aggrandised  nationality)  which  had,  in  the  preceding 
centuries,  notably  in  the  sixth  century,  been  weakened  by 
the  drain  upon  it  of  cosmopolitan  life.  "  Whereas,  in  the 
time  of  Solon,"  says  Curtius  (II,  476),  "the  facile 
life  of  the  lonians  (of  Asia)  flourished  at  Athens,  whose 
wealthy  citizens  took  pleasure  in  displaying  their  pur- 
ple and  gold  and  perfumes,  their  horses,  their  hounds,  their 
favourites,  and  their  banquets,  it  is  incontestable  that  with! 
the  Persian  wars  a  more  serious  view  of  life  penetrated  the 
nation."  There  was  a  return  to  the  customs  of  the  Athe- 
nian forefathers.  "  The  victory  of  Marathon  brought  back 
into  honour  the  old  Attic  race  of  the  cultivators  of  the  soil; 
and  the  more  the  core  of  the  Athenian  people  came  to  con- 
sider themselves  superior  to  the  maritime  populations  of 
Ionia  [a  form  of  pride,  let  us  note,  which  is  always  depend- 
ent upon  custom-imitation],  the  more  they  desired  inde- 
pendence in  language,  customs,  and  dress."  Dress  became 
simpler  in  a  return  to  primitive  austerity.  "  Here  was  a 
purely  objective  difference  between  the  Asiatic  lonians  and 
the  Athenians;  but  their  customs  and  habits  of  life  had  al- 


Extra-Logical  Influences  301 

ready  varied  for  a  long  time"  This  is  a  proof  of  the  priority 
of  subjective  over  objective  imitation. 

There  are  many  signs  to  show  that  the  time  immediately 
preceding  Pericles,  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century,  and, 
especially,  the  sixth  century,  were  periods  in  which  the  wind 
of  foreign  imitation  blew  throughout  the  Archipelago,  in  all 
the  civilised  or  to-be-civilised  basins  of  the  Mediterranean. 
This  was  the  epoch  of  Polycrates  and  the  other  Greek  ty- 
rants, all  of  whom  were  opposed  to  the  ancient  morality,  all 
of  whom  were  propagators  of  foreign  customs  and  pre- 
cursors of  modern  administrative  government.  More- 
over, tyranny  plainly  showed  by  its  rapid  spread  from 
island  to  island,  at  this  epoch,  the  impressionability  of  the 
period  to  extraneous  examples.  A  still  better  indication  of 
this  was  the  unheard-of  spectacle  that  could  be  seen  in 
Egypt,  under  the  Psammetichi  and  under  Amasis,  in  their 
imitation  of  the  life  of  Greece  and  in  their  efforts  to  intro- 
duce it  into  the  classical  land  of  tradition !  Amasis  "  was 
married  to  a  woman  of  Cyrene;  his  boon  companions  were 
Greeks,  and  Greek  princes  were  his  friends  and  guests;  like 
Croesus  [the  innovator  of  Lydia],  he  honoured  the  gods  of 
the  Greeks."  It  was  in  this  way,  in  the  eighteenth  century 
of  our  era,  that  Frederick  the  Great  attempted  to  Gallicise 
his  kingdom.  Darius  may  be  considered  to  have  shared  in 
this  movement  of  Hellenisation,  but  under  more  hidden  and 
general  forms.  At  any  rate,  he  opened  the  way  to  the  great 
administrative  empires  which  followed  him.  Persia  was 
"  utterly  transformed  by  him.  A  new  spirit  of  administra- 
tion took  the  place  of  its  ancient  customs." 

Hence  the  individualism  which  appeared  at  this  time. 
"  An  entirely  new  sentiment  of  personality  was  awakened." 
People  dared  to  think  for  themselves;  from  this  audacity 
philosophy  was  born.  The  Sophists  were  the  agents  of  the 
intellectual  freedom  of  the  individual.  Hence,  too,  the  cos- 
mopolitanism of  this  epoch. 

Have  I  said  enough  to  show  the  leading  role  which  is 
played  in  political  history  by  the  alternation  in  the  levels  of 
the  two  great  currents  between  which  imitation  unequally 


302 


Laws  of  Imitation 


divides  itself?  Undoubtedly  not,  but  I  will  conclude  this  ex- 
position by  studying  more  closely  the  political  consequences 
which  result  from  the  occurrence  of  this  simple  rhythmi- 
cal change  in  the  direction  of  a  single  force  and  the  charac- 
teristics which  must  be  taken  on  by  any  form  of  govern- 
ment to  fit  itself  to  expand  or  to  implant  itself  in  the  way 
that  I  have  described. 

The  consequences  are,  in  brief,  as  we  already  know,  the 
progressive  enlargement  and  consolidation  of  the  political 
agglomeration,  and,  then,  as  we  shall  see,  a  continually 
growing  administrative  and  military  centralisation,  the  in- 
creasing opportunity  given  to  a  personal  government  to 
make  itself  universal  and  later  on  to  perpetuate  itself 
through  becoming  traditional.  The  characteristics  are  a 
relatively  rational  and  democratic  air  in  the  case  of  consti- 
tutions that  are  expanding  and  an  air  of  relative  originality 
and  authority  in  the  case  of  constitutions  that  have  already 
spread  and  that  are  already  established.  All  this  will  be- 
come clearer  through  a  comparison  of  our  antithesis  with 
two  different  but  kindred  antitheses,  upon  which  two  emi- 
nent although  unequal  thinkers  are  agreed. 

Both  Tocqueville  and  Spencer  have  had  a  lively  appre- 
ciation of  the  great  social  transformation  which  is  the  slow 
and  irresistible  movement  of  our  age.  They  have  both  en- 
deavoured to  formulate  it  in  terms  in  which  they  thought 
they  saw  a  general  law  of  history.  Spencer  was  especially 
impressed  by  the  industrial  development  of  our  time.  In 
this  he  saw  the  dominant  trait  which  explained  all  the  other 
traits  of  our  societies,  notably,  the  emancipation  of  the  indi- 
vidual, the  substitution  of  constitutional  rights  for  natural 
rights,  of  the  regime  of  contract  for  the  regime  of  status,  of 
justice  for  privilege,  and  of  free  and  voluntary  association 
for  hereditary  and  state-imposed  corporations.  In  general- 
ising this  view  he  considered  the  directing  of  activity 
towards  depredation  or  production,  towards  war  or  peace, 
a  major  fact  which  sufficed  to  characterise  two  ever-con- 
flicting types  of  civilisation:  the  militant  type,  which  is  ap- 
proaching extinction,  and  the  industrial  type,  which  is 


Extra-Logical  Influences  303 

destined  to  an  idyllic  and  grandiose  future  of  peace,  liberty, 
morality,  and  love.1 

Tocqueville  was  profoundly  and  religiously  impressed, 
as  he  tells  us,  by  that  levelling  of  conditions  which  is  precip- 
itating the  peoples  of  Europe  and  America  towards  the  in- 
evitable slope  of  democracy.  In  hisxeyes,  desire  for  equal- 
ity is  the  highest  motor  power  of  our  times,  just  as  desire 
for  privilege  was  the  highest  motor  power  of  the  past,  and 
upon  the  opposition  of  those  two  forces  he  bases  the  con- 
trast between  aristocratic  and  democratic  societies  which 
have  at  all  times  differed  in  everything,  in  language,  in  re- 
ligion, in  industry,  in  literature,  and  in  art,  as  well  as  in 
politics.  Without  alarm — on  the  contrary,  with  evident 
sympathy,  but  without  superfluous  illusions  or,  at  least, 
without  any  dose  of  optimism  that  could  be  compared  with 
that  of  Spencer's — he  foresees  the  results  of  the  equalisation 
that  is  to  be  consummated  in  the  future  of  democracy,  and 
he  depicts  them  in  a  way  which  is  at  times  prophetic. 

On  many  points  the  antitheses  of  Spencer  and  Tocqueville 
agree,  for  it  seems  as  if  Spencer's  militant  societies  were  pre- 
cisely, in  many  respects,  the  aristocracies  of  Tocqueville, 
and  as  if  the  industrial  societies  of  the  former  tended  to 
identify  themselves  with  the  democracies  of  the  latter. 
Spencer  tells  us,  however,  that  militancy  engenders  obliga- 
tory co-operation  and  the  oppression  of  the  individual  under 
administrative  centralisation,  and  that  industrialism  makes 
for  voluntary  co-operation,  individual  independence,  and  de- 

1  Comte,  and  not  Mr.  Spencer,  was  the  author  of  the  antithesis  be- 
tween the  industrial  and  the  militant  types  of  society.  Comte  did  more 
than  merely  point  out  this  antithesis;  he  often  developed  it;  he  even 
exaggerated  it.  He  established,  for  example,  an  indissoluble  tie  be- 
tween industrial  evolution  and  artistic  evolution,  a  tie  that  practically 
belied  classical  antiquity.  Still,  there  is  much  truth  at  bottom  in  this 
point  of  view. 

Only,  even  while  exaggerating  the  merits  of  industrial  activity  and 
its  superiority  over  the  activity  of  war,  Comte  was  careful  not  to 
carry  this  distinction  to  the  point  of  considering  it  the  line  of  cleavage, 
so  to  speak,  in  sociology.  He  knew  that  religious  evolution,  the  succes- 
sion and  differentiation  of  theological  and  scientific  forms  and  ideas, 
has  a  far-reaching  control  over  these  secondary  considerations.  And 
this  is  what  Mr.  Spencer  failed  to  see. 


304  Laws  of  Imitation 

centralisation.  Tocqueville,  on  the  contrary,  in  pages  where 
the  most  solid  erudition  is  joined  to  the  most  thoughtful 
and  sincere  insight,  is  forced  to  conclude,  at  the  last  and 
against  his  wish,  that  democratic  equality,  born  of  general 
uniformity,  leads  us  almost  inevitably  to  oppressive  centrali- 
sation and  excessive  paternalism,  and  that  local  franchises 
and  personal  guarantees  were  far  more  surely  protected 
in  times  of  aristocratic  differentiation  and  inequality.  This 
avowal  must  have  cost  him  dear,  and  I  do  not  see  how  he 
reconciles  his  passionate  love  for  liberty,  a  love  which  far 
outweighs  his  love  for  equality,  with  his  sympathy  for  the 
conventional  and  intolerant  state,  in  a  word,  for  the  socialis- 
tic state,  which  he  so  clearly  foresees.  And  yet  his  liberal- 
ism is  not  more  inconsistent  than  that  of  the  great  English 
evolutionist.  At  any  rate,  which  of  the  two  is  in  the 
right?  Must  we  agree  with  Tocqueville  in  holding  that  an 
aristocratic  rule  is  decentralising,  differentiating,  and,  in 
a  sense,  liberal,  and  that  a  democratic  rule  is  centralising, 
levelling,  and  authoritative;  or  must  we  accept  Spencer's  ap- 
parently inverse  proposition? 

I  think  that  Tocqueville's  thesis  contains  a  greater 
amount  of  truth,  but  that  he  was  wrong  in  not  bringing  out 
more  clearly  a  certain  side  of  his  thought  which  has  re- 
mained in  the  shade.  At  bottom,  he  generally  means  by 
aristocratic  rule  the  dominance  of  custom,  and  by  demo- 
cratic rule,  the  dominance  of  fashion,  and,  if  he  had  ex- 
pressed his  thought  in  these  terms,  he  would  have  been  in- 
contestably  in  the  right.  But  his  expression  was  inexact, 
for  it  is  not  essential  to  aristocracy  to  be  bound  to  the  spirit 
of  tradition,  and  every  democracy  is  not  hospitable  to  nov- 
elties. Nevertheless,  his  merit  consists  in  his  having  dis- 
criminated between  the  hereditary  and  non-hereditary  origin 
of  powers  and  rights,  of  sentiments  and  ideas,  and  of  not 
having  misconstrued  the  capital  importance  of  this  distinc- 
tion, a  distinction  which  is  wholly  neglected  or  barely 
touched  upon  by  Spencer.  Spencer  does  not  distinguish 
between  the  hereditary  and  customary,  i.  e.,  feudal,  form  of 
militancy,  and  its  voluntary,  legislative,  and  outwardly  imi- 


Extra-Logical  Influences  305 

tative  form,  a  form  which  is  peculiar  to  our  contemporaries. 
To  him  the  important  fact  is  whether  the  nature  of  ordinary 
activity  is  bellicose  or  industrial.  But  to  say  that  obliga- 
tory co-operation  is  peculiar  to  every  nation  under  the  domi- 
nation of  an  army,  under  the  pretext  that  military  organisa- 
tion is  essentially  coercive,  is  to  forget  the  fact  that  a  great 
workshop  is.governed  just  as  authoritatively  as  a  barbarous 
horde,  or  as  a  modern  fleet  or  regiment.  Was  not  the  Peru 
of  the  Incas  a  great  phalanstery  rather  than  a  great  bar- 
racks ?  At  any  rate,  no  military  despotism  was  ever  more 
dictatorial  than  this  agricultural  despotism.  This  was  be- 
cause obedience  to  custom  was  never  more  rigorously  en- 
forced, except,  perhaps,  in  China.  China  is  the  least  war- 
like and  the  most  laborious  country  in  the  world;  but  in 
spite  of  this,  co-operation  there  is  as  obligatory  as  it  can 
possibly  be,  intolerance  is  absolute,  and  administrative  cen- 
tralisation is  carried  as  far  as  the  absence  of  railroads  and 
telegraphs  allows  of  in  such  an  extensive  stretch  of  territory. 
For  there  the  yoke  of  custom  and  ancestral  domination 
weighs  everybody  down,  beginning  with  the  Emperor.1 

Spencer  attributes  to  the  militancy  of  France,  whose  de- 
velopment, as  he  says,  surpasses  that  of  England,  because 

1  Is  it  by  any  chance  the  habit  of  fighting  which  strengthens  authority 
and  makes  it  hereditary?  It  is  not;  a  victorious  war  might,  of  course, 
lead  to  the  extension  of  a  pre-existing  nobility,  or  it  might  even  create 
a  new  nobility,  but  only  on  the  condition  that  the  given  society  lived 
under  the  rule  of  custom  and  was  thus  predisposed  to  make  all  power 
hereditary.  Otherwise,  it  would  not  have  this  effect  at  all.  Could 
twenty  years  of  continual  warfare  create  a  feudal  system  in  moderni 
Europe?  It  might  create  a  dictatorship,  based  upon  an  even  more  in- 
solent plutocracy  than  that  of  to-day;  nothing  more.  In  fact,  every 
nobility  is,  originally,  rural,  patriarchal,  and  domestic.  Aristocracies 
are  particularly  vigorous  and  unchangeable  when  they  are  not  bel- 
ligerent. The  Swiss  aristocracy  is  an  example.  In  spite  of  its  repub- 
lican and  federal  form,  it  was  perpetuated  up  to  our  own  times  long 
after  the  rest  of  the  continent  had  set  towards  democracy.  If,  in 
spite  of  this,  the  idea  of  militancy  is  generally  associated  with  aris- 
tocratic control,  it  is  because  the  territorial  disintegration  which  is 
produced  by  the  aristocratic  preponderance  of  custom  multiplies  the 
occasions  of  armed  conflicts.  Industrialism  is  so  little  incompatible 
with  militancy  that  the  city  that  was  perhaps  the  most  warlike  city  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  Florence,  was  at  the  same  epoch  the  most  industrial 
region  of  Europe.  Ancient  Athens  is  another  example. 


306  Laws  of  Imitation 

of  the  more  frequent  wars  of  the  former,  the  dictatorial  and 
centralising  character  of  the  old  French  regime  (completed, 
in  this  respect,  as  we  know,  by  the  Revolution).  But  let 
us  observe  that  this  character  was  accentuated  in  proportion 
to  the  encroachment  of  the  royal  power,  which,  in  its  de- 
pendence upon  the  communes,  that  is,  upon  the  industrial 
classes  of  the  nation,  extended  itself  to  the  detriment  of  the 
,  warrior  caste  of  feudal  lords.  If  it  did  not  result  in  pre- 
venting foreign  and  intermittent  wars,  it  did,  at  least,  pre- 
vent steady  and  intestine  warfare,  much  to  the  advantage 
of  labour.  The  King  of  France  was  essentially  a  peace 
bringer.  England  remained  in  a  state  of  comparative  de- 
centralisation, because  she  continued  to  be  an  aristocratic 
country.  Her  industrial  wealth,  which,  up  to  the  end  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  was  not  superior  to  that  of  France, 
counted  for  nothing  in  this  result.  As  for  the  entirely  re- 
cent tendency  of  contemporary  nations  towards  state  social- 
ism,— so  strong  an  argument  against  the  liberalising  in- 
fluence that  is  attributed  by  Spencer  to  industrial  develop- 
ment, and  such  a  formal  refutation  of  his  views  upon  the 
political  future, — is  it  permissible  to  interpret  it  as  an  ac- 
cidental and  momentary  effect  of  the  exaggerated  arma- 
ments which  the  Franco-Prussian  war  imposed  upon 
Europe?  And  would  it  not  be  more  exact  to  attribute  to 
this  profound  and  invincible  and,  to  all  appearances,  lasting 
movement,  an  internal  and  permanent,  instead  of  a  for- 
tuitous and  external,  cause,  one  which  would  closely  connect 
the  progress  of  the  modern  state  with  the  progress  of  modern 
industry  and  democracy  ?  * 

1  Even  in  the  United  States,  in  spite  of  the  essentially  peaceful 
character  of  its  people,  a  universal  tendency  towards  centralisation 
may  be  observed.  The  Journal  des  economistes  says  (July,  1886)  that 
in  the  March  number  of  the  Political  Science  Quarterly,  an  American 
review  published  in  Boston,  an  article  of  Mr.  Burgess'  tends  to  prove 
that  "  an  internal  process  is  going  on  to  reduce  the  importance  of  the 
States  to  that  of  provinces  or  departments  and  to  augment  the 
importance  of  the  Union.  Moreover,  the  author  proves  that  the  Union 
has  always  had  precedence  over  the  States."  See  also  on  this  sub- 
ject the  interesting  and  instructive  work  of  M.  Claudio  Jannet  upon 
the  £tats-Unis  contemporains.  (Fourth  edition,  1888). 


Extra-Logical  Influences  307 

This  cause  lies  in  the  habit,  which  is  becoming  daily  more 
general,  of  taking  examples  that  are  near  at  hand,  in  the 
present,  instead  of  those  that  belong  exclusively  to  the  past. 
It  is  remarkable  that  from  the  time  this  habit  began  to 
prevail,  nations  have  been  urged,  either  by  war  or  peace, 
in  the  direction  of  extreme  centralisation  and  unification, 
and  of  the  broadening  and  deepening  of  democracy,  just  as 
when  the  opposite  habit  prevailed,  war  and  peace,  chateaux 
and  guilds,  contributed  to  the  maintenance  of  feudal  dis- 
integration. Why  is  this  ?  ^  Because  external  imitation 
produces  that  great  uniformity  of  ideas  and  tastes,  of 
usages  and  wants,  which  makes  possible  and  then  neces- 
sary, not  only  the  fusion  of  the  assimilated  peoples,  but  the 
equalising  of  their  rights  and  conditions,  i.  e.,  juridical  sim- 
ilarity between  members  of  communities  who  have  become 
alike  in  so  many  other  respects.  Because,  in  addition,  this 
uniformity  makes  possible  for  the  first  time,  and  then  neces- 
sary, both  wholesale  industry,  machine  production,  and  whole- 
sale war,  machine  destruction.  And,  finally,  because  this  same 
uniformity,  which  makes  one  man  equal  to  another,  neces- 
sarily leads  to  the  treatment  of  men  as  like  units,  to  the  me- 
chanical consideration  and  calculation  of  their  desires  by 
means  of  universal  suffrage  and  of  their  actions  by  means  of 
statistics,  and  to  the  restraining  of  them  all  under  a  uniform 
system  of  discipline  by  means  of  those  other  mechanisms 
that  are  called  administrative  bureaus  or  departments.  Here 
the  truly  essential  and  causal  thing  is  the  multiplication  of 
external  relations  among  classes  and  peoples.  This  is  so 
true  that  the  social  transformation  in  question  set  in  imme- 
diately after  the  comparatively  modern  inventions  in  print- 
ing, in  locomotion,  and  in  communication,  that  it  develops 
parallelly  with  the  propagation  of  these  inventions  and  that, 
in  those  places  where  it  has  not  yet  begun,  the  laying  of  rail- 
roads and  the  setting  up  of  telegraph  poles  suffice  to  in- 
augurate it.  If  American  democracy  shows  in  a  remark- 
able degree  the  features  which  M.  de  Tocqueville  has  at- 
tributed to  democracies  in  general,  and,  notably,  to  Euro- 
pean democracies,  whose  portrait  he  has  drawn  for  them  in 


308  Laws  of  Imitation 

advance,  it  is  because  North  America  has  anticipated  Europe 
in  its  bold  and  extensive  use  of  new  methods  of  transporta- 
tion, in  its  steamboats  and  railroads,  it  is  because  nowhere 
else  has  there  been  so  much  or  such  rapid  travelling,  nor  so 
great  an  interchange  of  letters  and  telegrams. 

Moreover,  may  we  not  suppose  that  in  the  future,  when 
our  democracies  are  firmly  established,  they  will  differ 
in  many  points  from  the  picture  that  Tocqueville  makes  of 
them?  Is  it  true  that  a  democratic  rule  essentially  implies 
the  empire  of  what  I  call  fashion?  Must  its  opinions  and 
practices  be  in  consequence  unstable,  as  well  as  chaotic  and 
domineering?  Must  the  short-sightedness  and  capricious- 
ness  of  its  majorities  equal  their  omnipotence?  I  see  no 
reason  to  think  this.  The  social  being,  after  all,  however 
social  he  may  be,  is  a  living  being,  born  through  the  power 
of  generation  and  born  for  it.  He  wishes  to  perpeutate  his 
social  body,  and  he  knows  no  better  way  of  doing  this  than 
to  attach  it  to  his  physical  body,  and  transmit  it  with  his 
blood.  Every  civilisation  which  has  run  its  course,  Egypt, 
China,  the  Roman  Empire,  has  presented  the  spectacle  of  a 
more  or  less  extensive  society,  drawing  back  through  the 
promptings  of  filial  piety,  after  its  conversion  through  a  kind 
of  beneficent  epidemic  to  a  given  body  of  ideas  and  institu- 
tions, and  shutting  itself  up  in  these  ideas  and  institutions  for 
ages  at  a  time.  I  have  already  referred  to  China.  In  the 
last  centuries  of  the  Roman  Empire  we  find  a  society  which 
is  not  democratic,  which  is,  on  the  contrary,  pretty  aristo- 
cratic, but  which  is  very  uniform,  and  at  the  same  time  very 
stable  and  mechanical,  and  which  is  ruled  over  by  a  highly 
centralised  administration.  Ancient  Egypt,  which  was  to 
a  certain  extent  democratic,  was  no  less  striking  in  its  uni- 
formity from  one  end  to  the  other  of  the  Nile  basin,  in  its 
administrative  centralisation,  and  in  its  prodigious  immuta- 
bility as  well.  All  these  examples  and  arguments  suggest 
the  thought  that  our  own  contemporaneous  society  may  be 
unwittingly  gravitating,  in  spite  of  its  transient  mobility 
and  momentary  bias  for  individual  liberty  (just  as  the 
fluctuations  of  the  sea  give  a  free  air  to  a  vessel),  towards 


Extra-Logical  Influences  309 

an  age  of  fixed  custom  in  which  the  present  work  of  render- 
ing all  things  uniform  will  be  completed.  Towards  the  end 
of  his  work  Tocqueville  had  a  presentiment  of  this.  Once 
a  democratic  state  is  established,  he  says,  far  from  favouring 
revolutions,  it  is  antagonistic  to  them ;  and,  he  adds :  "  I 
can  easily  discern  a  state  of  polity  which,  when  combined 
with  the  principle  of  equality,  would  render  society  more 
stationary  than  it  has  ever  been  in  our  western  part  of  the 
world."  x 

1  [Reeve's  translation,  II,  315-6— TV.] 

In  an  attentive  reading  of  Tocqueville  it  may  be  perceived  that  al- 
though he  never  troubles  himself  to  formulate  the  principle  of  imita- 
tion he  is  always  running  across  it,  and  curiously  enumerating  its 
consequences.  But  if  he  had  expressed  it  clearly  and  placed  it  at  the 
head  of  his  deductions,  he  would,  I  think,  have  been  spared  many 
minor  errors  and  contradictions.  He  justly  remarks  that  "  no  society 
can  prosper  without  like  beliefs,  or,  rather,  there  is  none  that  subsists 
without  them ;  for  without  common  ideas,  there  is  no  common  action, 
and  without  common  action,  men  there  may  be,  but  not  a  social  body." 
This  means,  at  bottom,  that  the  true  social  relation  consists  in  imita- 
tion, since  similarity  of  ideas,  I  mean  of  those  ideas  which  are  needed 
by  society,  is  always  acquired,  never  inborn.  It  is  through  equality 
that  he  justly  explains  the  omnipotence  of  majorities — the  redoubtable 
problem  of  the  future — and  the  singular  potency  of  public  opinion  in 
democratic  states,  a  sort  of  "  immense  pressure "  which  is  brought  to 
bear  by  the  spirit  of  all  upon  the  spirit  of  each.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  explains  equality  by  means  of  similarity,  of  which,  truly  speaking,  it 
is  only  one  aspect.  He  says  that  only  when  men  resemble  each  other 
to  a  certain  extent  do  they  recognise  each  other's  mutual  rights.  What 
is  there  to  add  to  this?  Only  one  word,  but  it  is  indispensable:  the 
fact  that  imitation  must  have  and  has  caused  this  similarity,  a  similar- 
ity which  was  not  in  the  least  innate.  Imitation,  then,  is  the  es- 
sentially social  action  from  which  everything  proceeds. 

"  In  democratic  centuries,"  Tocqueville  says  again,  "  men's  extreme 
mobility  and  their  impatient  desires  cause  them  to  move  continually 
from  one  locality  to  another,  and  cause  the  inhabitants  of  different 
countries  to  intermingle,  to  see  and  hear  each  other  and  borrow  from 
each  other.  And  so  it  is  not  only  the  members  of  one  nation  who 
grow  alike;  nations  themselves  are  assimilated."  Under  the  term  of 
democratic  revolution,  the  effects  of  a  preponderance  of  fashion-imi- 
tation could  not  be  better  described.  He  offers  an  ingenious  and,  I 
think,  valid  reason  for  that  tendency  of  democracies  towards  general 
and  abstract  ideas  which  makes  them  lose  sight  of  living  realities; 
namely,  that  as  men  grow  more  alike,  they  find  less  difficulty  in  look- 
ing at  themselves  collectively,  in  summing  themselves  up,  and  they 
thereby  acquire  the  habit  of  seeing  everything  in  this  way.  This  is 
another  effect  of  imitation.  I  have  taken  these  examples  among  a 


310 


Laws  of  Imitation 

IV.  Legislation 


The  above  consideration  concerning  government  may  be 
applied  to  legislation.1  Legislation,  like  political  and  mil- 
itary systems,  is  only  a  particular  development  of  religion. 
And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  law  was  originally  as  sacred  a 
thing  as  kingship.  The  most  ancient  collection  of  laws, 
Deuteronomy,  the  Irish  codes  of  the  ancient  Brehons,  the 
code  of  Manu,  are  inextricably  mingled  with  legendary 
lore  and  cosmogonic  explanations.  This  fact  shows  that 
the  prophet  who  dogmatises  and  is  deified  after  death  is 
one  with  the  legislator  who  commands  and  the  king  who 
governs.  In  the  beginnings  of  history  the  father  of  the 
family,  as  well  as  the  leader  of  the  social  group,  is  all  that  in 
one.  His  essential  quality  is  that  of  pontiff,  and,  as  such,  he 
is,  in  consequence,  both  chief  and  judge.  He  is  chief,  in  as 
much  as  he  directs  the  collective  action  of  the  group  for  the 
common  interest  of  all  its  members.  He  is  judge  when  he 
interposes  his  authority  between  these  members  to  settle 
their  differences.  If  his  method  of  settling  them  is  con- 
tinuous and  self-consistent,  if  he  possesses  a  system  of  juris- 
prudence, as  our  jurists  would  say,  he  comes  to  prevent  their 
occurrence.  And  from  that  time  on  law  exists  in  his  little 
society;  the  memory  of  his  past  decisions  implies  the 
prevision  of  his  future  judgments.  Then  legislation  is  in  the 
beginning  and  always,  at  bottom,  nothing  more  than  ac- 
cumulated, generalised  and  capitalised  justice,  just  as  a  con- 
stitution is  merely  accumulated,  generalized,  and  system- 
atised  politics.  Legislation  is  to  justice,  a  constitution  is 
to  politics,  what  the  Lake  of  Geneva  is  to  the  Rhone. 

In  general,  there  is  between  common  law  which  is  passed 
down  by  tradition  and  statute  law  which  is  born  of  some 
current  of  reform  opinion  the  same  difference  as  between 

thousand  similar  ones.  Again  he  writes :  "  It  is  not  so  much  the 
rational  desire  to  remain  united  which  keeps  a  great  number  of  citizens 
under  one  government,  as  the  instinctive  aad,  in  a  way,  involuntary 
agreement  which  results  from  a  similarity  of  sentiments  and  opinions." 
1  For  the  role  of  imitation  and  of  social  logic  in  the  formation  of 
law,  see  my  Transformations  du  droit. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  311 

natural  and  rationalistic  constitutions,  or  between  exclusive 
and  proselyting  religions,  or  even  between  dialects  and  cul- 
tivated languages.  Dialects,  local  cults,  original  systems  of 
government,  and  customs,  seek  to  transmit  themselves  from 
generation  to  generation;  cultivated  languages,  open-armed 
religions,  ready-made  constitutions,  and  new  codes,  seek 
to  spread  themselves  from  man  to  man,  either  within  the 
circumference  of  a  single  country  or  beyond  it.  This  does 
not  prevent  the  most  widespread  language  from  having 
been  originally  like  any  other  dialect;  or  the  most  penetrat- 
ing kind  of  religion  from  having  germinated  in  some  nar- 
row sect;  or  the  most  triumphant  and  ambitious  constitu- 
tion from  having  been  suggested  by  some  petty,  local  gov- 
ernment, like  that  of  Lacedaemon,  with  which  our  conven- 
tions were  so  much  taken,  or,  at  any  rate,  by  some  tradi- 
tional government,  like  that  of  England,  over  which  our 
parliamentarians  are  still  so  enthusiastic;  or,  finally,  the 
most  contagious  kinds  of  legislations  like  Roman  law,  or 
its  hybrid  derivative,  modern  French  law,  from  having  their 
source  or  sources  in  such  humble  customs  as  the  primitive 
jus  quiritium  or  the  Prankish  laws.  Nor  does  this  prevent 
the  most  widespread  language,  religion,  constitution,  or 
piece  of  legislation  from  contracting  after  its  expansion, 
from  becoming  localised  after  its  diffusion,  and  from  tend- 
ing to  become  in  its  turn  a  dialect,  a  local  cult,  a  peculiar 
constitution  or  custom,  but  all  this  upon  a  much  greater 
scale  and  with  a  higher  degree  of  complexity.  There  are, 
then,  I  reiterate,  three  phases  to  be  considered;  and  from 
the  legislative  point  of  view,  just  as  in  all  other  aspects, 
their  characteristics  are  well  marked.  In  the  first,  Law  is 
extremely  multiform  and  extremely  stable,  very  different  in 
different  countries,  and  immutable  from  age  to  age.  In  the 
second,  it  is,  on  the  contrary,  very  uniform  and  very  change- 
able, as  is  the  case  in  modern  Europe.  In  the  third,  it  en- 
deavours to  combine  its  acquired  uniformity  with  its  refound 
stability.  A  cursory  glance  will  show  us  that  this  is  the 
rhythm  in  which  the  whole  history  of  Law  is  played. 
There  was  a  time  when  every  family  or  pseudo-family 


312  Laws  of  Imitation 

possessed  its  own  peculiar  law, — then  every  clan  and  tribe, 
— then  every  city, — then  every  province.  "  In  order  to  un- 
derstand how  each  of  these  successive  steps  towards  the 
prospective  unity  of  the  legislative  domain  was  accom- 
plished, let  us  study  the  transitions  from  provincial  to  na- 
tional law.  For  a  long  time  every  province  of  France  pos- 
sessed its  own  distinct  customs,  but  gradually  a  body  of 
royal  ordinances  came  to  be  superposed  upon  these  customs. 
Moreover,  it  should  be  noted  that  every  parliament  and  tri- 
bunal interpreted  new  laws  in  its  own  way,  and  created  its 
own  separate  system  of  jurisprudence.  This  juristic 
habit  reduced  legislation  to  the  original  provinciality 
whence  it  seemed  unable  to  escape  in  a  time  that  was  still 
dominated  by  hereditary  imitation.  But,  finally,  contagious 
imitation,  the  tendency  to  copy  the  legislative  and  juristic 
innovations  of  Paris,  having  definitely  prevailed,  the  edicts 
of  the  Parisian  legislators  of  the  Revolution  and  of  the  Em- 
pire were  readily  obeyed  throughout  the  France  whose  prov- 
inces had  ceased  to  bow  down  before  the  authority  of 
their  own  ancestors  and  of  native  jurists.  What  is  more, 
the  jurisprudence  of  every  court  or  tribunal  was  modelled 
(by  compulsion,  someone  may  say,  but  why,  unless  the  need 
of  territorial  conformity  had  become  imperative?)  upon  the 
jurisprudence  of  the  court  of  cassation  at  Paris.  Let  me 
add  that  already  our  national  jurisprudence,  established  in 
this  way  by  fashion,  is  tending  to  become  transfixed  by  tra- 
dition and  to  carry  legislation  with  it  into  its  own  state  of 
immobility.  The  law  of  the  Twelve  Tables,  which  ended  by 
being  the  venerable  tradition  and  sacred  custom  of  Rome, 
began  by  being  a  foreign  importation  that  a  fine  outburst  of 
fashion-imitation  caused  to  be  adopted. 

While  this  movement  is  transpiring,  a  still  more  majestic 
change  is  inaugurated.  The  same  cause  which  rendered 
necessary  first  the  superposition  and  then  the  substitution 
of  national  law  upon  or  in  place  of  provincial  laws,  compels 
the  different  national  laws  to  reflect  one  of  their  own  number, 
and  to  prepare  for  the  legislative  unification  of  the  future.  It 
was  in  the  sixteenth  century,  unsettled  period  though  it  was, 


Extra-Logical  Influences  313 

a  time  of  contagious  innovations,  that  Roman  Law  arose 
from  its  scattered  ashes  and  spread  throughout  every  state, 
while  in  each  one  of  them  the  progress  of  the  royal  power 
was  making  their  legislation  uniform.  Yesterday  it  was 
the  Napoleonic  Code  that  crossed  the  frontiers  of  the 
French  Empire.  (To-day,  unfortunately,  no  prestigious 
authority  is  arising  potent  enough  to  construct  a  new  mon- 
ument of  law  to  dazzle  the  eyes  from  afar;  but  everything 
leads  us  to  think  that  if  it  did  appear  somewhere  or  other, 
it  would  be  copied  with  unheard-of  rapidity  everywhere — 
witness  the  comparative  success  of  the  Torrens  act.  In  the 
absence  of  really  new  juristic  solutions,  the  new  problems 
of  law  which  occur,  in  connection,  for  example,  with  indus- 
trial accidents  and  labour  legislation,  are  barely  formulated' 
in  any  corner  of  the  world  before  they  violently  rebound  to 
every  other  corner. 

Well,  if  it  is  true  that  the  disposition  of  the  modern  pub- 
lic towards  free  imitation  of  outside  things  has  alone 
made  possible  the  diffusion  of  the  French  Code,  for  ex- 
ample, is  it  not  likely  that  in  past  ages,  when  the  same  pro- 
vincial law  came  to  prevail  over  a  certain  number  of  cities, 
and  the  same  municipal  law  over  a  certain  number  of 
tribes,  etc.,  a  like  disposition  characterised  the  public  of 
those  times,  and  that  without  it  none  of  these  gradual  ex- 
tensions of  the  juristic  sphere  would  have  occurred  ?  When 
in  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  we  see  in  France  and 
Germany  a  certain  number  of  cities  which  had  been  pre- 
viously governed  by  very  distinct  customs,  presenting  a  com- 
parative similarity  of  legislation,  we  know  that  in  France 
this  uniformity  was  established  through  the  imitative  spread 
of  the  first  charter  granted  to  a  commune,  a  document 
which  fascinated  the  eye  of  the  public  of  the  period,  and  we 
know  that  the  idea  of  mutual  imitation  in  this  respect  came 
to  cities  which  already  had  multiple  relations  with  each 
other  by  way  of  commerce  or  treaty,  or  through  language 
or  kinship.  The  customs  of  Lorris,  for  example,  spread 
with  great  rapidity  in  the  royal  domain  and  in  Champagne. 
The  same  thing  happened  in  Germany.  "  Almost  all  the 


314  Laws  of  Imitation 

municipal  laws  of  the  Rhine  towns  are  like  those  of 
Cologne,"  writes  M.  Schulte,  in  his  classical  work  upon  the 
history  of  German  law.1  The  Rhine  towns  lived  a  com- 
mon life  through  that  continuous  stream  of  mutual  imita- 
tion which  was  sustained  and  symbolised  by  the  current  of 
their  river.  "  The  law  of  Liibeck,"  says  the  same  author, 
"  was  the  model  for  that  of  Holstein  and  Schleswig,  and 
the  majority  of  the  cities  on  the  Baltic  Sea."  The  law  of 
Magdeburg  was  parallelled  and  developed,  too,  by  Halle, 
Leipsic,  Breslau,  and  other  "sister  cities,"  and  from  Bres- 
lau  it  "  spread  to  Silesia,  Bohemia,  Poland,  and  Moravia, 
so  that  it  was  pretty  closely  followed  through  the  entire 
East."  2  Nevertheless,  after  any  municipal  law  or  charter 
has  spread  in  this  way  through  fashion,  after  it  has  been 
somewhat  modified,  it  soon  becomes  one  of  the  most  cher- 
ished of  customs  in  the  hearts  of  its  administrators. 

In  letting  this  thought  sink  into  our  minds,  we  shall  save 
ourselves  from  the  error  of  differentiating  between  an- 
cient and  modern  law,  of  digging  a  factitious  abyss  be- 
tween them,  and  of  supposing  that  the  bridging-over  from 
one  to  the  other,  in  so  far  as  it  is  genuine,  has  only  been  ef- 
fected once  in  the  world's  history.  That  eminent  thinker 
who  has  penetrated  so  profoundly  into  the  law  of  the  past, 
Sir  Henry  Sumner  Maine,  is  not  free  from  illusion  of  this 
kind.  According  to  him,  the  great,  the  capital  revolution 
which  has  been  accomplished  in  law  is  that  which  took 
place,  as  he  supposes,  when  the  idea  of  common  territory 
was  substituted  for  that  of  consanguinity  as  a  basis  for 
poitical  and  juridical  union.  There  is  much  truth  in  this 
view,  but  if  we  endeavour  to  particularise  it,  we  shall  see 
that  it  ought  to  be  expressed  in  other  terms,  and  that  it 
would  gain  by  such  a  translation.  It  is  certain  that  the 
family  was  for  a  long  time  the  narrow  domain  to  which 
moral  obligations  were  confined,  and  that  all  the  rest  of  the 

1  [Histoire    du    droit   et    des   institutions    de    I'Allemagne,    p.    159. 
Frederic  de  Schulte.    French  translation  by  Marcel  Fournier.    Paris, 
1882.— Tr.} 

2  [Ibid.,  p.  162.— Tr.] 


Extra-Logical  Influences  3 1 5 

universe  was  field  for  prey.  Consequently,  the  ancient 
pater  familias  had  power  over  life  and  death  in  his  house- 
hold; he  could  condemn  to  death  his  wife,  his  children,  and 
his  slaves.  But  what  was  this  hermetically  sealed  family 
life  but  a  profession  of  complete  disdain  on  the  part  of  its 
members  for  all  external  examples?  It  is  obviously  diffi- 
cult to  maintain  such  exclusi veness ;  little  by  little  domestic 
barriers  are  broken  down  and  foreign  influences  are  added 
to  paternal  traditions.  It  is  then,  when  different  families 
have  begun  to  lend  and  borrow  to  and  from  one  another, 
that  relations  of  neighbourhood  combine  with  those  of  kin- 
ship in  the  creation  of  legal  ties.  But  as  the  only  recog- 
nised type  of  solidarity  was  habitually  the  tie  of  blood,  ties 
of  friendship  were  at  first  fictitiously  classed  under  this 
tie  by  adoption  or  otherwise.  Later,  in  Christian  countries, 
spiritual  fatherhood,  the  relation  of  godfather  to  godchild, 
with  the  rights  and  duties  which  accompany  it,  must  be 
classed  with  paternity  by  adoption,  just  as  the  relation  of 
spiritual  nurse,  that  is,  of  spiritual  preceptor,  to  disciple 
must  be  classed  with  that  of  foster-father  to  foster-child 
(the  fosterage  of  Ireland).  In  Ireland,  for  example,  the 
preceptor  had  the  right  to  succeed  to  the  fortune  of  his  dis- 
ciple. In  this  same  country,  I  am  still  citing  Sumner  Maine, 
the  very  ecclesiastical  organisation,  the  bulk  of  the  monas- 
teries and  bishoprics,  simulated  a  true  tribe.  It  is  perhaps 
because  of  a  like  fiction  that  the  names  of  father,  brother, 
mother,  and  sister  are  given  to  the  inmates  of  convents  and 
monasteries,  in  spite  of  their  obligatory  celibacy. 

But,  little  by  little,  as  non-related  individuals  came  to  inter- 
mingle and  to  assimilate  with  one  another  more  and  more, 
the  impossibility  of  extending  similar  fictions  to  their  new 
relations  insured  the  rejection  of  these  fictions,  and  the 
simple  fact  of  living  together  in  the  same  country  sufficed 
to  bind  men  legally  to  one  another.  Why  was  this?  Be- 
cause in  the  great  majority  of  cases  compatriots  had 
become  very  much  alike  through  their  habit  of  reciprocal 
imitation.  When,  as  an  exception,  a  particular  group  was 
different  from  the  others,  like  the  Jews  in  the  Middle  Ages, 


31 6  Laws  of  Imitation 

or  the  American  negroes,  or  the  Spanish  Moors  under 
Philip  II,  or  like  the  Catholics  in  Protestant  countries,  or 
the  Protestants  in  Catholic  countries,  during  the  sixteenth 
century,  participation  in  the  law  of  the  land  was  refused,  or 
with  great  difficulty  conceded  to  them,  in  spite  of  their 
common  territory.  So  true  is  it  that  the  real  foundation 
and  first  condition  of  law  is  the  existence  of  a  certain  kind 
of  preliminary  similarity  between  the  men  that  it  is  to 
unite.  When  blood  relationship  was  a  requisite,  it  was 
because  it  alone  presupposed  this  degree  of  resemblance, 
whereas,  at  present,  the  possession  of  a  common  territory 
suffices  to  give  birth  to  this  presumption.  Besides,  the 
tie  of  a  common  territory  aspires  to  strengthen  itself 
through  the  addition  of  the  tie  of  kinship.  In  modern  na- 
tions, where  distinct  races  have  had  time  to  fuse  together 
through  their  prolonged  submission  to  the  same  laws,  the 
national  party  are  convinced  that  they  have  common  an- 
cestors, although  the  apparently  territorial  character  of  their 
law  disguises  their  faith  in  their  common  kinship.  Seeley 
justly  places  foremost  among  the  conditions  of  national 
unification,  "  community  of  race,  or,  rather,  belief  in  such 
community."  In  the  most  modern  as  well  as  in  the  most 
ancient  times,  then,  the  important  thing  is  not  so  much  real 
consanguinity  as  fictitious  or  reputed  consanguinity.  Thus 
we  see  that  the  action  of  fashion-imitation  has  produced, 
not  once,  but  very  often,  the  important  juridical  revolution 
to  which  Sumner  Maine  refers.  But  from  the  expression 
of  this  author  it  would  seem  as  if  physiological  or  physical 
causes,  generation,  or  climate,  or  soil,  were  the  factors  of 
this  transformation,  whereas  an  essentially  sociological 
force,  imitation,  has  done  it  all. 

In  the  preceding  remarks  it  is  true  that  imitation  of  su- 
periors appears  to  be  confused  with  imitation  of  contem- 
poraneous innovators.  But  there  are  cases  in  the  domain 
of  jurisprudence,  as  well  as  elsewhere,  in  which  it  is  dif- 
ferentiated. The  history  of  penal  law  furnishes  us  with 
many  striking  examples  of  this.  I  will  merely  indicate 
them  here,  as  I  have  already  spoken  of  them  at  some  length 


Extra-Logical  Influences  317 

in  another  work.1  It  is  stupifying  to  find  with  what  ra- 
pidity certain  odious  and  absurd  criminal  procedures,  like 
torture  or  certain  inadequate  and  unintelligent  ones  like  the 
jury  system,  have,  at  certain  epochs,  been  propagated.  Tor- 
ture was  in  fashion  in  Europe  from  the  time  of  the  unearthing 
of  Roman  law  at  Bologna,  and  up  to  the  sixteenth  century 
it  spread  like  an  inundation  of  blood.  In  the  eighteenth 
century  people  fell  in  love  with  the  jury  system,  without 
understanding  it,  upon  the  word  of  a  few  anglomaniacs;  so 
much  so  that  in  1789  all  the  official  instructions  of  the  elec- 
tors to  the  deputies  at  the  States-General  were  unanimous 
on  this,  as  on  so  many  other  points.  And  we  know  how  far 
prepossession  for  this  lame  and  blind  kind  of  justice  has 
spread  in  our  century  of  equality  and  enlightenment.  Are 
we  not  forced  to  surmise  from  these  two  examples  that  the 
method  which  preceded  torture,  judicial  combat,  was  itself 
propagated  by  means  of  some  similar  infatuation? 

At  any  rate,  it  is  notable  that  these  foreign  fashions  were 
not  slow  to  plant  themselves  as  cherished  customs  in  the 
hearts  of  the  people.  At  present,  the  jury  is  a  national  and 
inviolable  institution  in  France.  But  in  the  seventeenth 
century  torture  was  honoured  in  the  same  way.  Several 
times  the  States-General  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  even 
those  of  1614,  declared  themselves  in  favour  not  only  of  the 
maintenance,  but  even  of  the  extension,  of  this  method  of 
proof,  thereby  bearing  witness  to  the  far-reaching  extent 
of  its  popularity. 

Let  me  hasten  to  add  that  the  fevers  of  fashion  here,  as 
elsewhere,  rarely  produce  such  bad  effects,  and  that  since 
they  are  in  general  merely  auxiliary  to  imitation  of  su- 
periority and  to  social  logic,  they  ordinarily  favour  the 
progress  of  legislation.  As  much  could  be  said  of  the  new 
customs  which  follow  upon  these  crises.  Let  us  enquire, 
then,  into  the  characteristics  which  are  apt  to  be  taken  on 
by  a  legislation  which  seeks  first  to  extend  itself  and  then 
to  implant  itself  upon  the  vaster  territory,  and  into  the 

1  See  my  Philosophic  penale  (edited  by  Storck,  1890). 


318  Laws  of  Imitation 

consequences  of  both  this  extension  and  this  entrench- 
ment. 

These  characteristics  are,  in  general,  greater  richness  of 
content  and  greater  simplicity  of  form.  In  expanding  law, 
greater  weight  is  attached  to  contracts,  to  reciprocal  en- 
gagements, to  equity,  to  humanity,  and  to  individual  reason ; 
and  in  law  which  is  being  fixed  and  codified,  in  addition  to 
these  qualities,  an  air  of  learned  casuistry  and  despotic  regu- 
lation. Roman  law,  as  it  was  spontaneously  formed  under 
the  influence  of  the  jus  gentium  and  the  praetorian  modifica- 
tions and  as  it  was  codified  and  transfixed  during  the 
Empire,  is  a  remarkable  example  of  this  twofold  type. 
Wherever  it  was  propagated  by  the  jurists,  it  was  received 
for  justice  and  logic  incarnate,  and  this  fact  partly  accounts 
for  the  annihilation  under  it  of  all  the  other  original  legisla- 
tions of  antiquity  or  the  Middle  Ages.  Wherever  it  was 
established  it  became  the  potent  instrument  of  despots.  Let 
us  note  at  this  point  that  although  we  oppose  equity  to 
privilege  and  justice  to  custom,  equity  and  privilege,  justice 
and  custom,  have  the  same  origin.  Custom  appears  just  to 
primitive  men  because,  whether  it  favour  or  sacrifice  the 
individual,  it  treats  him  in  the  same  manner  as  it  does  the 
'only  persons  to  whom  he  is  wont  to  compare  himself, 
namely,  his  ancestors  and  the  members  of  his  caste.  His 
desire  to  be  treated  like  others  is  satisfied  in  this  way  in 
spite  of  the  juridical  disparities  and  dissimilarities  which 
custom  establishes  between  those  who  are  already  dissimilar 
in  every  respect.  But  when  the  individual  begins  to  care 
more  for  this  juristic  likeness  to  his  fellow-countrymen  and 
to  his  contemporaries  in  general  than  for  his  likeness  to  his 
ancestors  and  kinsfolk,  because  his  resemblance  to  the 
former  has  become  marked  in  other  respects,  the  equality 
of  treatment  to  which  he  makes  claim  is  what  we  call  justice 
or  equity.  It  matters  little  to  him,  then,  if  he  is  treated 
quite  differently  from  his  forefathers,  provided  he  is  treated 
like  his  neighbour. 

To  a  certain  extent  the  distinction  between  real  and 
personal  property,  the  social  preponderance  of  which  seems 


Extra-Logical  Influences  319 

to  alternate,  is  connected  with  that  between  custom-imita- 
tion and  fashion-imitation.  In  times  of  custom  and  tradi- 
tion ancestral  heritages,  lands,  houses,  offices,  business 
houses,  etc.,  are  considered,  and  justly  so  at  this  time,  much 
the  most  important  part  of  a  fortune.  What  the  individual 
can  acquire  in  the  course  of  his  ephemeral  life  through  his 
particular  little  industry,  through  his  commerce  or  through 
his  spontaneous  initiative  or  through  the  initiative  that  he 
has  imitated  from  his  contemporaries,  does  not  in  general 
add  much  to  this  hereditary  fund,  the  fruit  of  accumulated 
savings  produced  by  the  exploitation  of  ancient  inventions, 
of  inventions  in  agriculture,  in  finance,  in  industry,  in  art, 
etc. 

It  is  natural  in  these  epochs  to  consider  the  patrimony 
as  the  most  sacred  piece  of  property,  worthy  of  being  safe- 
guarded in  its  integrity  by  tutelary,  laws,  by  successoral  or 
feudal  repurchase,  by  substitution  or  by  religious  respect 
for  testamentary  disposition.  The  habit  of  imitating  one's 
forefathers  first  of  all,  of  turning  to  the  past  for  the  choice  of 
one's  models,  leads  to  the  habit  of  obeying  one's  ancestors  and 
of  respecting  their  wishes  above  everything  else.  On  the  con- 
trary, when  imitation  of  contemporaries  rages,  that  is  to  say, 
when  the  latter  are  remarkably  inventiveand  when  their  inven- 
tions throw  ancestral  ones  for  the  time  being  into  the  shade, 
the  facility  for  growing  rich  in  exploiting  contemporaneous 
innovations  is  so  great,  that  a  patrimony  is  likely  to  be  con- 
sidered more  and  more  as  a  mere  outfit,  initial  capital  to  be 
either  promptly  dispersed  or  increased  tenfold  through  bold 
speculation  or  labour  or  enterprise.  Consequently,  a  patri- 
mony loses  its  prestige  and  acquired  property  takes  on  a 
nobler  character.  At  such  times  no  property  seems  more 
respectable  than  that  which  is  gained  through  personal 
effort,  through  the  intelligent  use  of  new  industrial  or  agri- 
cultural ideas,  etc.  This  is  where  we  stand  to-day  in  France 
and  everywhere  else.  Consequently,  it  is  not  astonishing 
that  there  is  some  little  talk  everywhere,  mistaken  talk,  I 
think,  of  making  an  attack  upon  the  old  laws  of  succession, 
of  suppressing  or  limiting  the  right  of  bequest  and  the  capac- 


320  Laws  of  Imitation 

ity  to  inherit  and  of  basing  the  right  of  holding  property 
exclusively  upon  personal  labour. 

Obviously,  here  as  everywhere  else  the  influence  of 
fashion-imitation  is  exerted  in  an  individualistic  sense. 
Parenthetically,  I  may  observe  that  this  opposition  between 
real  and  personal  property  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  opposition 
between  the  juristic  and  the  economic  points  of  view.  It  is 
notable  that  political  economy  was  born  in  Greece,  in 
Florence,  and,  in  the  eighteenth  century,  in  England,  during 
their  ages  of  fashion. 

The  consequences  which  are  involved  by  the  progress  of 
Law,  first  in  extension  and  then  in  stability,  are  of  several 
kinds;  for  legislation  is  concerned  with  all  the  directions 
which  individual  activity  can  take,  and  these  directions  far 
outnumber  those  of  collective  activity  which  are  controlled 
by  the  constitution  of  the  government.  All  that  a  national 
party  can  do  collectively  consists  of  military  or  diplomatic  ac- 
tion in  relation  to  other  states  or  of  internal  political  reform, 
the  production  of  power  or  glory,  or  of  national  liberty,  a 
more  highly  rated  occupation.  Moreover,  a  political  reform  is 
only  the  manipulating  by  legislation  of  matters  which  bear 
upon  the  acts  and  interests  of  private  life,  upon  individual 
rights  and  duties.  But  the  acts  which  individuals  may  per- 
form separately  are  innumerable:  they  relate  to  rural  or 
urban  occupations  of  every  nature,  to  all  kinds  of  agricul- 
tural and  industrial  work,  to  all  kinds  of  crime,  to  all  forms 
of  adjusted  or  conflicting  interests.  We  must  distinguish 
here  between  activity  that  is  contrary  to  and  activity  that  is 
in  accordance  with  the  laws.  Activity  which  is  contrary  to 
law  and  which  must  be  anticipated  by  law  in  order  to  be 
suppressed,  is  the  sum  of  those  occurrences  which  lead  to 
civil  or  criminal  actions;  since  the  former,  no  less  than  the 
latter,  presuppose  a  violation  of  justice  by  one  of  the  con- 
testants, only  it  is  a  violation  that  is  supposed  to  have  been 
committed  by  mistake  and  not  by  bad  will.  Activity  in 
accordance  with  law  is  primarily  the  sum  of  all  the  works 
of  civil  or  criminal  justice,  the  production  of  peace  and  secur- 
ity, a  special  kind  of  industry,  as  well  as  the  peaceful  and 


Extra-Logical  Influences  321 

legal  exercise  of  all  callings,  the  production  of  multiform 
wealth,  industry  strictly  speaking.  Now,  in  matters  of 
justice,  the  uniformity  of  legislation  which  follows  upon  a 
diversity  of  legislation  results  in  centralising  and  regulating, 
I  was  about  to  say  in  making  mechanical,  the  administration 
of  justice  and  in  enlarging  systems  of  jurisprudence;  and 
stability  of  legislation  results  in  consecrating  and  consoli- 
dating such  enlarged  systems  of  jurisprudence.  This  is 
particularly  true  of  civil  justice,  although  the  penal  system 
is  subject  to  analagous  changes.  To  a  customary  and  me- 
chanical penal  system,  one  abounding  in  strange  and 
atrocious  as  well  as  in  absurd  forms  of  torture,  a  method- 
ical and  rational  system  succeeded.  This  was  undoubtedly 
too  slow  in  coming,  but  it  has  already  led  to  a  singular  con- 
trast between  the  penitentiaries  of  to-day  and  the  jails  of 
the  past.  Indeed,  every  revolutionary  access  of  fashion,  in 
any  order  of  facts  whatsoever,  introduces  a  higher  degree 
of  rationality  into  our  society,  just  as  every  reversion  to 
custom  introduces  a  higher  degree  of  wisdom. 

In  relation  to  any  industry  whatsoever,  the  substitu- 
tion of  uniform  legislation  for  legislative  disintegration  is 
a  sine  qua  non  of  all  production  on  a  large  scale,  of  all  pro- 
duction requiring  machinery  or  concentration  of  capital,  in 
questions  of  railroads,  of  manufacturies,  or  of  extensive 
farming.  Thus  uniform  legislation  is  indispensable  if  we 
care  to  have  brilliant  prosperity;  and  stable  legislation  is 
indispensable  if  our  prosperity  is  to  be  lasting.  At  any  rate, 
as  industrial  development  is  still  more  directly  dependent 
iipon  variations  in  such  fundamental  and  implicit  laws 
as  the  laws  of  want  and  habit  than  it  is  upon  law  technically 
speaking,  it  is  proper  to  relegate  considerations  of  this  kind 
to  the  following  section.  But  among  industries,  there  is 
one,  namely,  agriculture,  which  is  more  immediately  de- 
pendent upon  legislation.  We  know,  indeed,  how  much  the 
progress  of  agriculture,  which  is  carried  on  by  machines 
and  which  has  extensive  markets  at  its  command,  can  be 
hindered  by  a  multiplicity  of  customs  having  the  force  of 
law,  in  questions  of  apprenticeship,  of  usufruct,  of  different 


322  Laws  of  Imitation 

kinds  of  ownership,  of  mortgages,  of  successions,  of  sales, 
of  rent,  of  prescribing  for  title,  etc.  When  these  barriers 
are  cast  aside  by  the  optional  or  obligatory,  but  in  either 
case  contagious,  adoption  of  a  single  body  of  laws  that  has 
emanated  from  some  prestigious  court  or  capital  or  from 
some  contemporaneous  celebrity,  the  impetus  is  finally  given 
to  agriculture  on  a  great  scale. 


V.  Usages  and  Wants. — Political  Economy 

Usage  is  the  most  despotic  and  the  most  circumstantial 
of  governments,  the  most  rigorous  and  the  best-obeyed  kind 
of  legislation.  By  usage  I  mean  those  thousand  and  one 
traditional  or  recently  established  habits  which  regulate 
private  conduct,  not  abstractly  and  from  a  distance,  like  law, 
but  close  at  hand  and  in  every  detail,  and  which  include  all 
the  artificial  wants,  all  the  tastes  and  distastes,  and  all  the 
peculiarities  of  morals  and  manners  which  characterise  a 
given  country  or  a  given  period.  It  is  for  the  satisfaction  of 
this  group  of  special  desires  in  the  special  forms  which  are 
determined  by  them  and  in  conformity  to  the  more  or  less 
badly  formulated  laws  of  political  economy  that  industry 
exerts  itself.  In  this  sense,  usage,  like  government  and  law, 
is  connected  with  religion.  It  is  an  offshoot  of  ritual.  Who 
would  guess,  for  example,  that  our  habit  of  writing  from 
left  to  right  has  a  sacerdotal  origin  ?  And  yet  this  is  abso- 
lutely so.  The  Greeks  originally  followed  the  example  of 
the  Phoenicians  and  wrote  from  right  to  left;  but  later  on, 
following  the  example  of  their  priests,  who  wrote  down  the 
oracles  in  the  opposite  direction  because  the  direction 
towards  the  right  was  of  good  augury,  the  east  lying  to  the 
right  of  the  sacrificer  who  watches  the  sky  with  his  face 
towards  the  north,  they  made  an  entire  reform  in  this 
particular  in  their  old  habits.  "  Because  people  turned 
towards  the  right  to  pray,"  says  Curtius,  "  the  sacri- 
ficial cup,  the  casque  which  held  the  lots,  the  harp  that  was 
to  celebrate  the  gods,  were  all  passed  on  from  left  to  right." 


Extra-Logical  Influences  323 

In  view  of  this  explanation  of  the  direction  in  which  we 
write,  it  is  curious  to  find  anthropologists  explaining  it  on 
physiological  grounds.  Moreover,  even  in  supposedly  irre- 
ligious societies,  usage  never  fails  to  express  the  true  and 
deep  cult,  the  chivalric  or  materialistic,  the  aristocratic  or 
democratic,  ideal  which  dominates  and  directs  them.  The 
mere  form  of  the  seats  and  chests  of  the  twelfth  and  eigh- 
teenth centuries  is  enough  to  reveal  the  mysticism  of  the 
first  period  and  the  epicurism  of  the  second. 

To-day,  the  same  kind  of  comfort  in  food,  in  dwellings, 
and  in  clothing,  the  same  kind  of  luxury,  the  same  forms  of 
politeness,  bid  fair  to  win  their  way  through  the  whole  of 
Europe,  America,  and  the  rest  of  the  world.  We  no  longer 
wonder  at  this  uniformity,  a  condition  which  would  have 
appeared  so  amazing  to  Herodotus.  It  is,  nevertheless,  a 
capital  fact,  and  although  it  was  itself  developed  through 
the  progress  of  industry,  without  it  our  immense  industrial 
wealth  would  be  impossible.  A  traveller  through  Europe 
in  the  twelfth  century  would  not  have  failed  to  observe  that 
at  every  step,  from  one  canton  to  another,  communities  who 
were  possessed  of  the  same  religion  and,  often,  of  the  same 
language  and  law  and  form  of  government,  differed 
strangely  from  one  another  in  their  methods  of  nourishment, 
lodging,  clothing,  personal  adornment,  and  amusement.1  But 
had  the  traveller  passed  through  the  same  places  one  hun- 
dred years  later,  he  would  not  have  perceived  any  marked 
difference  in  these  same  particulars  between  the  different 
generations  of  a  given  canton.  On  the  contrary,  the  modern 
continental  tourist  will  find,  particularly  in  large  cities  and 
among  the  upper  classes,  a  persistent  sameness  in  hotel  fare 
and  service,  in  household  furniture,  in  clothes  and  jewelry, 
in  theatrical  notices,  and  in  the  volumes  in  shop  windows. 
But  let  him  return  ten  or  fifteen  years  later  and  he  will  find 
many  changes  in  all  these  things.  New  dishes  will  figure 

1  Thus  ideas  and  dogmas  spread  more  easily  than  usages,  and  the 
latter  were  assimilated  but  slowly  in  the  train  of  the  former.  This 
fact  is  an  example  of  what  I  have  said  above  about  the  progress  of 
imitation  from  within  out. 


324  Laws  of  Imitation 

on  the  bill  of  fare;  an  entirely  different  style  and  perhaps 
a  new  kind  of  utility  will  characterise  the  furniture;  new- 
fashioned  costumes  will  have  sprung  from  the  imagination 
of  the  fashionable  dressmakers,  and  new  forms  of  jewelry 
from  the  phantasy  of  the  jeweller's  brain;  new  comedies  and 
operas  and  novels  will  be  in  vogue.  This  contrast,  one  which 
I  have  referred  to  before,  is  more  striking  in  this  case  than 
in  any  other. 

Does  this  mean  that  the  gradual  and  general  or  regular 
substitution  of  diversity  in  space  for  diversity  in  time  and 
of  similarity  in  time  for  similarity  in  space  which  is  due  to 
the  progress  of  our  civilisations  must  be  considered  as  an 
inevitable  law  of  history,  and  as  an  entirely  irreversible 
order  of  things  ?  No.  Only  the  normal  transition  from  geo- 
graphical diversity  to  geographical  similarity  is  really  irre- 
versible; for  we  cannot  imagine,  unless  as  a  consequence  of 
some  social  cataclysm,  the  return  of  usages  to  a  state  of  dis- 
integration once  their  unity  was  established.  But  we  can 
well  conceive,  without  any  mental  somersault,  of  a  chrono- 
logical reversal  of  the  transition  from  identity  to  differen- 
tiation; we  can  well  conceive  that  after  a  period  of  capricious 
changes  or  rather  of  hasty  experiments,  usages  might  be- 
come fixed.  Steadfastness  in  the  case  of  habits  is  far  from 
contradicting  in  any  respect  their  universality;  it  completes 
it.  Europe,  which  is  still  so  stormy,  but  which  was  not 
always  so,  is  unconsciously  making  for  this  peace-bringing 
port.  The  fever  of  civilisation  which  torments  it  is  not  an 
entirely  new  and  unheard-of  thing  in  history;  and  we  know 
how  it  ends.  We  may  be  sure  that  the  entire  basin  of  the 
Nile  or  Euphrates,  or  the  whole  of  the  Middle  Empire,  or 
all  India,  was  not  made  partially  uniform  in  more  or  less 
remote  or  obscure  epochs  without  feverish  agitation,  seeing 
that  this  involved  the  destruction  of  a  great  number  of  local 
peculiarities.  These  were  blotted  out  by  a  current  of  conta- 
gion whose  transitory  violence  is  evidenced  to  by  this  very  ef- 
fect. But  this  current,  having  done  its  work,  has  disap- 
peared. And  behind  it,  upon  the  great  Asiatic  territories  over 
which  it  must  have  flowed,  we  are  surprised  to  find  not  only 


Extra-Logical  Influences  325 

an  amazing  resemblance  in  dress,  in  furniture,  etc.,  but  an 
immutable  fidelity  to  ancient  usages  as  well.  This  is  so 
marked  that  the  type  of  dwelling,  for  example,  and  of  in- 
terior arrangements  that  is  still  made  use  of  in  Oriental 
palaces,  enables  us  to  reconstruct  the  plan  of  the  ancient 
palaces  of  Assyria  in  spite  of  the  shapeless  character  of  their 
ruins. 

It  is  infinitely  likely  that  the  alternating  play  of  the  two 
kinds  of  imitation  was  alone  able  to  transform  the  world  to 
the  point  of  gradually  effacing  all  traces  of  the  primitive 
checker-board  of  local  usages.  But  I  must  anticipate  an 
objection.  Because  archaeologists  of  prehistoric  times  find 
in  every  cave-dwelling  about  the  same  types  of  flakes,  of 
knives,  of  very  simple  utensils,  they  hastily  conclude  that 
their  savage  possessors  did  not  differ  at  all  from  one  another 
in  their  clothes  or  morals  or  methods  of  life,  and  that  this 
resemblance  was  due  to  the  spontaneous  appearance  of  the 
same  ideas  and  wants  among  primitive  men.  But  this  con- 
clusion is  absolutely  arbitrary,  and  the  only  one  that  is 
authorised  by  logic  is  that  the  production  or  consumption 
of  flint  arms  or  tools,  of  pottery,  etc.,  was  propagated  by 
fashion-imitation  over  vast  regions  at  those  remote  periods 
during  which  we  are  often  led  to  think  that  tribal  imitation 
played  an  insignificant  part.  When  I  call  to  mind  that  the 
Incas,  in  spite  of  their  high  degree  of  civilisation,  nevef  had 
any  notion  of  a  wagon  or  wheel,  nor  of  illumination  by 
means  of  a  lamp  or  candle,  thereby  utilising  the  oleaginous 
substances  which  were  right  under  their  hands,  I  cannot 
doubt  but  that  the  majority  of  savage  peoples  would  have 
always  been  ignorant  of  the  art  of  pottery  if  they  had  not 
been  taught  it  from  outside.  Consequently,  it  seems  a  fal- 
lacy to  me  to  see  in  the  almost  universal  diffusion  of  this  art 
proof  of  the  necessity  of  the  innateness  of  certain  dis- 
coveries. 

I  realise,  however,  that  the  life  of  savages  on  the  lowest 
rung  of  the  human  ladder  is  almost  as  much  lacking  in 
originality  as  in  variety,  and  that  they  resemble  each  other 
in  many  particulars  without  having  imitated  each  other  the 


326  Laws  of  Imitation 

least  in  the  world.  But  their  similarity  in  this  respect  is  in 
no  way  social.  It  is  entirely  vital,  for  the  only  wants  which 
they  know  are  natural  wants  with  a  very  slight  impression 
of  the  special  characteristics  of  the  family.1  Let  us  pass  on 
to  the  point  when  the  family  has  become  more  artificial  than 
natural  and  begins  to  be  and  to  wish  to  be  a  society,  not 
solely  a  physiological  group.  Then  true  usages,  fictitious 
wants  which  overlie  or  swell  out  physical  wants,  begin. 
They  arise  as  distinct  things  in  the  several  groups,  and  as 
they  become  more  precise  and  more  numerous  in  each  group 
they  become  differentiated  in  them.  But  their  internal  pre- 
cision and  richness  continues  without  let,  whereas  their 
external  differentiation  is  soon  checked  by  the  inmate  tend- 
ency to  copy  the  foreigner  famous  for  invention  or  con- 
quest. Now  and  then  this  tendency  has  free  scope  and, 
thanks  to  this  intermittent  spirit  of  introducing  foreign 
wants  and  to  its  combination  with  the  steady  spirit  of 
conserving  traditional  wants,  every  tribe,  and  then  every 
city,  and  then  every  province,  and  then  every  large  nation, 
and  finally  almost  the  whole  of  the  civilised  globe,  presents 
the  spectacle,  in  respect  to  usages,  as  in  so  many  other  re- 
spects, of  advances  in  similarity  joined  with  increasing 
degrees  of  complexity. 

If  one  wished  to  explain  the  architectural  style  and 
fashion  of  a  given  locality  merely  on  the  ground  of  the  ex- 
igencies of  its  climate,  one  would  be  greatly  handicapped. 
In  Asia  Minor,  for  example,  all  the  houses  on  the  slope  of 
the  Black  Sea  are  roofed  with  tiles,  whereas  on  the  slope 
towards  Cyprus  their  roofs  are  terraced,  "  whatever  may 
be,"  says  M.  £lisee  Reclus,  "  the  difference  of  climate."  It 

1  Besides,  this  similarity  is  far  from  being  complete.  M.  Smile 
Riviere,  who  has  given  much  study  to  the  fauna  of  prehistoric  caves, 
remarks  upon  the  extreme  rarity  of  the  remains  of  fish  in  the  grottoes 
of  Mentone.  He  is  suprised  by  this  fact,  and  has  difficulty  in  explain- 
ing how  it  was  that  a  seaboard  people  and  one  whose  sea  was  so  abound- 
ing in  fish  were  so  little  or  not  at  all  addicted  to  fishing.  Is  not  the 
most  simple  explanation  of  this  curious  phenomenon  the  fact  that 
these  cave  dwellers  had  not  yet  had  the  idea  of  inventing  adequate 
or  fitting  means  of  catching  the  fish  off  their  coasts? 


Extra-Logical  Influences  327 

is  a  question  of  fashion  or  custom,  or,  rather,  of  an  ancient 
fashion  that  has  become  a  custom.  From  one  end  to  the 
other  of  the  United  States,  from  top  to  bottom,  throughout 
all  classes,  even  among  good-looking  women  (and  there  is 
certainly  no  more  striking  example  of  the  power  of  imitation 
than  this)  we  find  the  repugnant  habit  of  tobacco  chewing, 
— a  fact  that  explains  the  universal  presence  of  the  spittoon, 
the  most  indispensable  piece  of  furniture  in  America.1  Is 
this  a  habit  that  is  made  necessary  by  the  exigencies  of  race 
and  climate?  Not  at  all;  it  is  another  case  of  fashion  and 
custom. 

Let  me  dwell  a  little  upon  this  point,  if  only  to  emphasise 
a  distinction  which  might  have  been  expressly  indicated  in 
the  preceding  sections,  but  which  finds  a  more  natural  place 
here,  the  distinction  between  production  and  consumption. 
In  that  beginning  of  society  of  which  I  have  been  speaking, 
every  family  or  every  horde  began  by  being  a  workshop 
and  a  storehouse  of  all  kinds  of  useful  things,  besides 
being  both  church  and  state.  In  other  words,  it  pro- 
duced all  that  it  consumed  and  consumed  all  that  it  pro- 
duced either  in  the  matter  of  private  and  individual  utilities 
or  in  that  of  beliefs  or  in  that  of  collective  utilities.  This 
means  that  exchange,  economic  solidarity,  did  not  exist  be- 
tween families  any  more  than  political  or  religious  solidarity. 
Certain  families  did  not  produce  wheat  or  rice,  linen  or 
cloth,  for  the  consumption  of  other  families  in  exchange 
for  the  different  products  or  services,  political  or  military 
services,  for  example,  of  the  latter,  any  more  than  certain 
families  taught  or  ruled  over  others,  furnishing  them  with 
an  intellectual  or  volitional  direction  which  the  latter  be- 
lieved in  and  followed,  in  return  for  the  latter's  services 
or  products.  Now  I  must  show  how  production  became 
differentiated  from  consumption  all  along  this  line,  and 
it  is  incumbent  upon  me  to  prove  that  the  law  of  the 

1  [It  is  unnecessary  to  point  out  to  American  readers  the  infelicity 
of  this  illustration;  but  it  may  be  well,  for  the  benefit  of  English  read- 
ers of  Mrs.  Trollope  or  Charles  Dickens,  to  state  that  it  is  not  founded 
on  fact. — Tr.] 


328  Laws  of  Imitation 

alternation  of  the  two  kinds  of  imitation  applies  both  to 
the  spread  of  productive  acts  and  to  that  of  the  desires  of 
consumption. 

When  the  family  is  an  exclusive  and  self-sufficient  work- 
shop, the  secrets  and  processes  of  fabrication,  of  domestica- 
tion, and  of  cultivation  are  transmitted  from  father  to  son, 
and  imitation  functions  only  through  heredity.  At  the  same 
time  the  wants  which  this  embryonic  industry  satisfies  are 
transmitted  in  the  same  manner.  But  when  the  family 
learns  of  better  processes  in  use  elsewhere,  and  copies  them, 
forsaking  its  old  mistakes,  then  the  new  products,  which 
are  always  a  little  different  from  the  old,  must  be  desired 
and  called  for  simultaneously  on  the  part  of  consumers. 
Consequently,  new  needs  of  consumption  must  have  them- 
selves been  transmitted  by  fashion.  Finally,  it  always  hap- 
pens that  after  an  influx  of  industrial  innovations  has  been 
freely  welcomed  on  the  part  of  an  inheritance-  and  custom- 
bound  imitation,  the  desire  to  fix  them  as  customs  on  a 
larger  scale  appears.  In  this  way  corporations  are  born. 
Parallelly,  corresponding  desires  of  consumption  end  by 
taking  root  and  becoming  national  habits.1  Then  this  proc- 
ess begins  anew.  On  the  other  hand,  an  era  of  free  competi- 
tion, that  is,  of  free  external  imitation,  succeeds  to  the  close 
corporations  of  the  old  regime,  and  this  new  era  invariably 
winds  up  with  a  return  to  the  ancient  monopoly  on  a  vaster 

1  Periods  of  fashion-imitation  may  be  recognised  by  the  effacement 
of  certain  characteristics  which  had  previously  distinguished  the  dif- 
ferent professions.  This  means,  in  fact,  that  each  individual  looks 
about  him  and  seeks  to  copy  people  in  other  occupations  instead  of 
choosing  his  patron,  his  chief,  the  head  of  his  professional  family,  for 
his  unique  model. 

Voltaire  writes,  for  example,  in  his  Siecle  de  Louis  XIV:  "  Formerly 
all  the  different  conditions  of  life  could  be  recognised  by  their  charac- 
teristic defects.  Military  people  and  young  men  who  were  about  to 
enter  upon  the  profession  of  war  had  an  exaggerated  vivacity,  and 
members  of  the  legal  profession,  a  forbidding  gravity,  to  which  the 
habit  of  always  wearing  their  robes,  even  in  the  royal  court,  con- 
tributed not  a  little.  This  was  also  the  case  in  the  medical  profession 
and  in  the  universities.  Merchants  still  wore  mean  attire  when  they 
met  together,  and  when  they  called  upon  ministers  of  state.  In  those 
days  the  greatest  merchants  were  but  common  men.  But  as  soon  as 


Extra -Logical  Influences  329 

scale,  under  the  name  of  great  companies  or  professional 
syndicates.  On  the  other  hand,  a  rule  of  general  caprice 
and  all-pervasive  fashion  succeeds  to  the  old  usages  of  past 
times  until  the  appointed  hour  comes  for  the  quiescence  of 
people's  souls  in  wants  that  are  alike  stable  and  uniform. 

Here  we  must  take  note  of  an  apparently  simple  fact,  but 
one,  however,  which  has  had  great  consequences  in  history. 
[Desires  of  consumption  are  in  general  much  more  rapidly 
and  much  more  readily  communicated  than  the  desires  of 
production  which  correspond  to  them.  The  first  time  that  a 
primitive  tribe  sees  any  objects  of  war  or  adornment  in 
bronze,  it  straightway  desires  to  possess  similar  articles.  But 
it  is  not  until  much  later  that  it  desires  to  make  such  objects 
for  itself.  Meanwhile,  and  the  wait  may  be  a  long  one,  it 
appeals  to  the  fabricators  of  some  foreign  tribe,  and  thus 
commerce  arises.  It  has  been  noted  with  surprise  that  among 
the  Semites,  the  Cushites,  and  the  Aryans  (not  among  the 
Chinese)  the  composition  of  prehistoric  bronze  was  always 
the  same,  in  spite  of  the  possibly  arbitrary  proportion  of  its 
elements.  M.  Lenormand  says  this  is  "  an  important  fact 
and  one  which  proves  that  the  same  invention  was  passed 
on  from  one  to  another  over  a  region  whose  geographical 
limits  have  been  accurately  determined  by  M.  de  Rouge- 
mont."  This  means  that  at  a  certain  prehistoric  period  the 
desire  to  acquire  this  newly  discovered  metal  spread  from 

citizens  began  to  meet  together  in  public  buildings,  at  public  spectacles 
and  promenades,  in  order  to  enjoy  the  amenities  of  life,  the  outward 
appearance  of  them  all  became  little  by  little  almost  identical.  Now- 
adays, we  perceive  that  polite  manners  have  made  their  way  through 
all  conditions  of  life.  All  these  changes  gradually  reacted  upon  the 
provinces." 

Broca  used  to  say  that  memory  is  not  a  simple  faculty.  Every  cerebral 
function  has  its  particular  memory  and  its  own  habits.  I  shall  say  as 
much  of  imitation,  the  social  memory.  Every  social  function,  and, 
especially,  every  pursuit,  has  its  own  particular  style,  that  is,  its  own 
proper  channel  and  current  of  imitation.  Professional  imitation  deserves 
a  special  study.  It  should  be  subdivided  into  two  chapters,  one  upon 
the  prejudices  and  the  other  upon  the  customs  that  characterise  every 
profession.  At  certain  times,  professional  imitation  runs  in  a  narrow 
channel,  at  other  times,  it  spreads  at  large,  and  different  kinds  of  pro- 
fessional imitation  connect  with  one  another. 


330  Laws  of  Imitation 

people  to  people  like  a  powder  train,  and  that  the  majority 
of  tribes  or  peoples  bought  it  long  before  they  knew  how  to 
make  it.  Otherwise,  its  composition  would  have  varied  very 
materially  in  different  places.  Many  other  facts  confirm  this 
point  of  view,  notably  the  spread  of  amber,  in  prehistoric 
ages,  to  very  great  distances  from  the  place  in  which  it  was 
discovered.  Thus  the  same  condition  held  in  the  past  as  in 
the  present.  To-day,  the  nations  which  are  entering  upon 
civilisation  are  the  markets  for  the  old  nations  of  Europe, 
because  they  have  caught  the  contagion  of  new  wants  with- 
out being  as  yet  stung  to  emulation  by  the  sight  of  new 
industry.  England's  worldwide  commercial  conquests,  so 
fruitful  of  immense  consequences,  result  from  this.1 

Although  this  phenomenon  is  or  appears  to  be  very  sim- 
ple, the  contrary  phenomenon  would  be,  a  priori,  much  more 
conceivable.  Desires  of  production  have  to  spread  only  in  a 
small  group  of  men  in  order  to  be  realised,  whereas,  if 
desires  of  consumption  are  to  be  viable,  they  must  propa- 
gate themselves  through  a  large  mass  of  people.  It  is  conse- 
quently surprising  to  find  that  when  a  whole  people  are 
charmed  into  wearing  certain  stuffs  and  jewels,  and  into 
living  in  houses  which  are  built  on  certain  plans,  no 
member  of  the  community  is  inspired  with  a  lively  desire 
to  produce  these  stuffs  and  jewels  and  houses.  So  imitative 
is  man,  in  general,  and  so  passive  besides,  in  his  manner 
of  imitating.  However  this  may  be,  the  fact  that  we  have 
noticed  may  be  observed  in  every  order  of  social  facts.  The 
taste  for  reading  poetry,  for  looking  at  pictures,  for  listen- 
ing to  music  or  plays,  comes  to  all  peoples  through  the  imi- 
tation of  some  neighbour  long  before  the  taste  to  versify  or 
to  paint,  or  to  compose  operas  or  tragedies.  Hence  the 
universal  radiation  and  the  international  character  of  certain 

1 "  The  Bushmen,  who  have  been  decimated  by  hunger,  are  sur- 
rounded by  pastoral  peoples.  And,  for  centuries,  they  have  preyed  upon 
their  neighbours'  herds,  only  to  destroy  them;  the  idea  of  breeding 
animals  themselves  has  never  occurred  to  them"  (Zaborowski,  Revue 
scientifique,  December  17,  1892.)  In  this  case,  desire  for  consumption 
has  so  far  preceded  desire  for  production,  that  the  latter  has  not  yet 
shown  itself. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  331 

great  literary  and  artistic  reputations.1  In  the  same  way, 
the  need  to  be  governed  by  intelligent  and  adequate  legisla- 
tion comes  to  a  people  long  before  the  desire  or  the  capacity 
to  elaborate  a  judicial  system.  Hence  the  spread  of  Roman 
law  among  the  Visigoths  and  other  barbarians  and,  after 
the  Renascence,  in  almost  all  of  feudal  Europe.  In  this 
same  way,  too,  the  need  of  religious  sentiment  precedes  that 
of  religious  as  well  as  that  of  philosophic  genius,  i.  e.,  theo- 
retic invention.  Hence  the  very  rapid  conversion  of  young 
or  aged  peoples  to  a  new  religion.  Similarly,  communities 
love  military  and  patriotic  glory  through  imitation  before 
they  possess  the  genius  for  war  or  statecraft  which  makes 
for  a  glorious  army  or  fatherland.  This  circumstance  fa- 
vours the  annexation  of  large  territories  by  illustrious 
conquerors;  it  favours  the  formation,  for  example,  of 
.the  Roman  Empire.  Finally,  communities  experience, 
through  contact  with  foreign  peoples,  the  desire  to  speak  a 
rich  and  cultivated  language  before  they  are  either  capable 
or  desirous  of  that  cultivation  which  alone  enriches  and  per- 
fects an  idiom.  I  may  say  the  same  thing  of  the  lower 
classes,  who  in  their  contact  with  the  educated  classes  are 
eager  to  copy  the  polite  language  of  the  court  or  drawing 
room  before  they  make  any  pretence  of  reproducing  fash- 
ionable life.  Hence  the  rapid  progress  that  is  made  by  cer- 
tain languages  or  dialects  throughout  a  continent  or  coun- 
try. The  spread  of  Greek  throughout  the  Eastern  Empire, 
of  the  dialect  of  the  Isle-de-France  throughout  France,  and 
.of  English  throughout  North  America  and  the  world  in 
general,  are  examples  in  point.2 

This  priority  along  all  lines  of  the  needs  for  consumption 

1  In  his  interesting  work,  entitled  Politique  Internationale,  M.  Novicow 
seems  to  think  that  a  nationality  that  is  worthy  of  the  name    should 
produce  the  arts  and  literature  that  it  consumes.     This  is  a  mistake, 
I  think.     According  to  this,  as  long  as  we  in  modern  Europe  were 
principally   fed   upon  Greek  and   Latin  literature,  there  was   no  such 
thing  as  French,  or  English,  or  Spanish,  or  German  nationality. 

2  The  fifteen-  or  eighteen-months-old  infant  cannot  talk,  but  he  can 
understand    his    mother's    speech.      According    to    Houzeau,    certain 
animals,  monkeys  and  dogs,  come  to  guess  the  meaning  of  their  masters' 
words.    They,  too,  consume  language  before  they  produce  it. 


332  Laws  of  Imitation 

over  those  for  production  may  be  deduced  as  an  important 
corollary  from  the  course  of  imitation  ab  interioribus  ad 
exteriora,  i.  e.,  from  the  thing  signified  to  the  sign.  Here 
the  sign  is  the  productive  act  which  actualises  the  idea  and 
aim  of  the  thing  which  is  to  be  consumed.  This  idea  and 
this  aim  are  the  hidden  content  of  which  the  consumed  prod- 
uct is  the  form.  Now,  in  periods  of  change,  the  form, 
as  we  know,  always  lags  behind  the  content.  Guyau  re- 
marks very  justly,  for  example,  that  "  the  political  revo- 
lution of  the  first  half  of  this  century  [in  France]  was  ac- 
complished in  thought  before  it  took  shape  in  action :  philo- 
sophic, religious,  and  social  ideas  which  had  been  previously 
unknown  to  the  poets  burst  forth  in  the  beautiful  setting 
of  the  tranquil  alexandrines  of  Delille."  The  change  to 
romanticism  in  verse  was  the  making  of  the  literary  prod- 
uct appropriate  to  meet  the  demand  of  the  new  soul  of 
poetry.  Does  not  this  inability  of  innovators  to  find  at 
once  suitable  metres  and  processes  and  symbols  of  art  for 
their  ideas  and  sentiments  suggest  the  impossibility  on  the 
part  of  countries  which  have  been  but  just  initiated  into 
new  desires  for  luxury  and  comfort  to  create  industries 
adapted  to  the  satisfaction  of  these  desires  ? 

No  social  phenomenon  has  had  greater  consequences  than 
the  one  in  question.  It  has  been  a  potent  factor,  as  we 
have  seen,  in  breaking  down  the  barriers  of  nationalities 
before  the  torrent  of  civilising  examples  which  escaped  from 
it  or  which  entered  into  it.  International  exchange  arose 
in  that  way.  Suppose  that  the  need  to  reproduce,  in  every 
order  of  things,  the  new  object  that  had  been  seen  abroad 
had  preceded  or  accompanied  the  need  to  consume  this 
article,  what  would  have  happened?  Primitive  families 
would  have  copied  one  another  without  uniting  together; 
they  would  have  remained  as  much  aloof  from,  if  not  as 
hostile  to,  one  another  after  every  act  of  borrowing  as  they 
were  before  it,  like  the  monads  of  Liebnitz,  which  reflect 
but  do  not  influence  one  another.  It  is  true  that  this 
heterogeneity  combined  with  this  similarity,  this  disin- 
tegration in  this  uniformity,  implies  a  kind  of  contradiction 


Extra-Logical  Influences  333 

which  cannot  be  indefinitely  prolonged.  And  so  the  imi- 
tative passivity  of  mankind  has  had  the  happy  result  of  mul- 
tiplying the  commercial  and  political  and  intellectual  ties 
of  human  groups  and  of  effecting  or  preparing  their  fusion. 
When,  after  it  has  been  passive  for  a  long  time,  imitation 
finally  becomes  active,  when  a  people  who  have  for  a  long 
time  imported  from  abroad  the  books  and  paintings,  the 
articles  of  luxury  and  the  statesmen  and  legislators  which 
it  needs,  undertakes  to  supply  its  own  literature  and  art, 
its  own  luxuries,  its  own  diplomacy,  the  greater  part  of 
its  attempts  fail.  Or,  if  they  do  succeed  by  means  of  a 
high  tariff,  or  by  means  of  other  methods  of  protection 
which  tend  to  re-establish  the  community's  previous  state  of 
isolation,  its  acquired  habits  are  too  strong  to  be  entirely 
broken  off,  and  they  will  regain  their  hold  some  day  or  other, 
to  the  advantage  of  all  concerned. 

In  reality,  when  new  desires  for  production  break  forth 
in  a  people,  long  after  the  establishment  of  new  desires 
for  consumption,  they  do  not  consist  in  simply  and  solely 
copying  the  literature,  the  arts,  the  industries,  and  the 
strategy  of  the  nation  whose  products  have  heretofore  inun- 
dated the  aforesaid  people.  But  an  original  system  of  pro- 
duction appears,  which  in  its  turn  endeavours,  and  usually 
with  success,  to  open  up  a  market  for  itself  among  the  origi- 
nal foreign  producers.  Moreover,  in  the  preceding  sec- 
tions I  concluded  that  the  widespread  propagation  of  a 
single  language,  of  a  single  religion,  of  a  single  govern- 
mental authority,  or  of  a  single  body  of  laws,  was  the  first 
and  preliminary  condition  of  a  great  literature  or  civilisation 
or  statecraft  or  system  of  security.  And  now  I  shall  have 
no  difficulty  in  showing  that  the  widespread  propagation 
of  the  same  number  of  wants  and  tastes,  or,  in  a  word, 
of  the  same  individual  usages,  is  the  first  and  preliminary 
condition  of  great  wealth  and  of  a  great  industrial  system 
as  well  as  of  a  great  art  (to  anticipate  the  following  sec- 
tion on  this  latter  point). 

Here,  as  before,  we  must  distinguish  the  influence  which 
the  transition  from  custom  to  fashion  in  matters  of  usages 


334  Laws  of  Imitation 

and,  later  on,  the  return  from  fashion  to  a  more  extensive 
custom,  exercises  upon  the  characteristics  of  industry. 

It  is  clear  that  in  an  age  when  custom  imposed  different 
kinds  of  food  and  clothing  and  furniture  and  houses  in 
different  localities,  in  localities  where  they  remained  fixed 
for  several  generations,  machine  production  on  a  large  scale 
would  be,  even  if  it  were  known,  without  a  market.  The 
artisan  of  such  an  epoch  is  bent  upon  making  only  a  small 
number  of  very  solid  and  durable  articles,1  whereas,  later 
on,  in  periods  when  the  same  fashion  holds  sway  over 
more  than  one  country,  although  it  changes  from  year  to 
year,  the  quantity  and  not  the  stability  of  the  product  is 
the  aim  of  industry.  A  builder  of  American  trading  ves- 
sels told  Tocqueville  that  on  account  of  the  frequent  change 
there  in  naval  fashions  it  was  to  his  interest  to  construct  ves- 
sels of  little  durability.  In  ages  of  custom,  the  producer 
seeks  the  narrow  and  long-drawn-out  market  of  the  future, 
in  ages  of  fashion  he  seeks  the  vast  ephemeral  market  of 
the  outside  world.  As  far  as  products  whose  essential 
quality  is  permanency  are  concerned,  such  as  buildings, 
jewelry  of  gold  or  precious  stones,  furniture,  bookbindings, 
statues,  etc.,  the  insufficiency  of  contemporaneous  patron- 
age in  times  of  custom  may  be  compensated  for  up  to  a  cer- 
tain point  by  the  prospect  of  the  future  patronage  to  which 
each  generation  will  contribute.  And  so,  the  Middle  Ages, 
in  spite  of  the  disintegration  of  their 2  local  usages,  possessed 

1 "  The  woollen  industry  of  Rome,"  says  Roscher,  "  is  distinguished 
by  the  solidity  of  its  products,  for  which  monastic  dress,  whose  fashion 
does  not  change,  has  set  the  standard." 

2  This  does  not  mean  that  the  Middle  Ages  were  unacquainted  with 
the  charms  of  fashion.  From  the  time  of  the  thirteenth  century,  accord- 
ing to  Cibrario,  the  nobility  delighted  "  to  dress  in  germents  borrowed 
from  the  most  distant  nations,  like  the  Saracens  and  Sclavonians." 
Florentine  women  wore  the  "  crude  green "  of  Cambria.  Changes  of 
fashion  in  everything  bearing  upon  dress  were  pretty  frequent  among 
the  nobility  and  the  wealthy  middle  classes.  They  were  much  less 
frequent,  however,  than  they  are  to-day  in  all  articles  whatsoever,  and 
among  all  classes.  "  The  dress  of  the  common  people,"  says  M. 
Rambaud,  "  changed  very  little  during  the  Middle  Ages."  This  is 
because  it  remained  a  matter  of  tradition.  "  On  the  other  hand,"  he 
adds,  "  the  wealthy  classes  had  a  capricious  variety  of  fashions."  This  is 


Extra-Logical  Influences  33$ 

its  great  architects  and  goldsmiths,  its  remarkable  cabinet- 
makers and  binders  and  sculptors.  But  for  products  destined 
to  more  or  less  immediate  destruction,  for  those  whose  con- 
sumption is  speedy,  this  compensation  does  not  exist.  Con- 
sequently, we  must  not  be  surprised  to  find  that  horticulture 
and  even  agriculture,  that  ordinary  glass  work  and  pottery 
and  cloth-making,  prospered  or  progressed  so  little  during 
the  feudal  period.  Inversely,  if  the  fickleness  of  taste  in 
times  of  fashion  hinders  the  development  of  such  arts 
and  industries  as  architecture  and  statuary,  things  that 
must  look  to  the  future,  a  uniformity  of  taste  over  a  vast 
territory  highly  favours,  in  spite  of  their  instability,  the 
progress  of  all  manufacture  which  is  essentially  ephemeral, 
such  as  paper-making,  journalism,  weaving,  landscape-gar- 
dening, etc.  Nevertheless,  if  renewed  stability  were  ever 
added  to  the  .acquired  uniformity  of  usages,  a  third  period 
of  incomparable  prosperity  would  open  out  to  industry. 
Already  such  a  period  may  be  foreseen.  China  arrived 
centuries  ago  at  this  happy  goal.  We  know  how  surpris- 
ing her  industrial  wealth  is  in  view  of  the  slender  treasury  of 
inventions  that  she  exploits. 

Have  I  in  any  of  this  been  exaggerating  the  role  of  imita- 
tion? I  think  not,  for  it  is  remarkable  that  when  a  great 
system  of  industry  is  introduced  into  a  country  it  at  first 
applies  itself  to  objects  of  luxury,  to  tapestry,  jewels,  etc., 
and  it  is  only  later  that  it  includes  objects  of  secondary  and 
then  of  prime  necessity.  Why  is  this  ?  Because  usages  are 
assimilated  in  the  upper  classes,  the  consumers  of  objects  of 
luxury,  before  this  assimilation  is  accomplished  among  the 
common  people.  Therefore  Colbert  was  very  unjustly 
blamed  for  having  encouraged  the  manufacturer  of  silks  and 
other  aristocratic  industries.  In  his  time,  this  was  the  only 

because  they  experienced  the  influence  of  fashion.  At  all  periods,  in 
antiquity  as  well  as  in  the  Middle  Ages,  it  is  notable  that  the  rule  of 
fashion  accompanies  the  brilliant  and  ascendant  phases  of  civilisations. 
"  The  Persians,"  says  Herodotus,  "  are  most  curious  concerning  foreign 
usages.  In  fact,  they  have  copied  the  dress  of  the  Medes  .  .  .  and  in 
war  they  use  Egyptian  cuirasses.  They  have  borrowed  pederasty  from 
the  Greeks." 


336  Laws  of  Imitation 

course  open  to  him.  And  yet  Roscher,  in  pointing  out  the 
apparently  fantastic  order  of  the  successive  forms  of  in- 
dustry, does  not  seem  to  me  to  have  perceived  its  reason. 
"  In  ancient  times,"  he  says,  "  the  greatly  inferior  means  of 
transportation,  the  manners  and  customs  of  different  coun- 
tries, and,  finally,  lack  of  machinery,  resulted  necessarily 
in  a  much  greater  dispersion  of  industry."  Here  the  cause 
which  I  have  pointed  out  as  unique  is  not  even  mentioned. 
Those  which  have  been  substituted  for  it  are  merely,  in  my 
opinion,  its  consequences.  Was  not  inadequacy  of  transpor- 
tation, for  example,  as  well  as  difference  of  character,  of 
customs,  and  manners,  the  result  of  putting  a  too  feeble 
emphasis  on  foreign  imitations  on  the  part  of  consumers? 
If  different  localities  had  desired  to  buy  the  same  articles, 
the  need  of  common  routes  would  have  been  experienced 
and,  before  long,  satisfied.  But  roads  1  which  were  opened 
out  by  the  bridge-building  friars  (a  religious  body  which 
was  expressly  created  in  the  Middle  Ages  for  the  construction 
of  roads  and  bridges,  a  kind  of  clerical  administration  for 
bridges  and  highways)  went  to  ruin  for  lack  of  use.  Under 
the  Roman  Empire,  too,  excellent  roads  existed;  but,  in  spite 
of  the  impetus  given  to  universal  assimilation  by  the  pres- 
tige of  Rome,2  as  the  particular  usages  of  the  different 
provinces  remained  pretty  dissimilar,  industry  on  a  large 
scale  was  little  known  at  this  period.3 

1  See  Jusserand,  La  Vie  nomade,  in  the  Middle  Ages. 

1  There  is  one  astonishing  fact  which  reveals  both  the  prestige  of 
Rome,  and  man's  tendency  to  imitate  his  conqueror,  namely,  the  fact 
that  so  odd  and  inconvenient  a  habit  as  that  of  eating  in  a  reclining 
position  became  general  throughout  the  Empire,  or,  at  least,  throughout 
the  higher  classes.  From  this  usage  was  derived  a  luxury  with  which 
we  are  no  longer  familiar,  the  eating  as  distinguished  from  the  sleeping 
couch;  and,  I  may  add,  from  the  nuptial  couch,  which  differed  from 
both. 

3  There  were,  however,  thanks  to  the  spread  of  Roman  models,  even 
in  the  barbarian  world,  exporting  industries.  The  barbarians  insensibly 
became  Latinised  in  their  wants  and  tastes,  and,  "  little  by  little,"  says 
Amedee  Thierry,  "  the  use  of  Roman  merchandise  became  so  general, 
that  the  garments  of  the  Sarmatian  and  the  German  were  made  either 
out  of  goods  produced  in  the  neighbouring  provinces,  or  in  Italy " 
(Tableau  de  I'empire  remain). 


Extra-Logical  Influences  337 

As  for  the  lack  of  machinery,  the  same  explanation  ap- 
plies. For,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  germ  of  machinery  that 
was  fit  to  start  or  develop  a  great  system  of  industry  was 
latent  in  antiquity  in  all  the  branches  of  production  that 
were  scattered  through  Egypt  and  Phoenicia  and  Greece 
and  Babylonia.  If  it  had  been  propagated  by  fashion-imi- 
tation among  producers,  it  could  not  have  failed  to  suggest 
rapid  improvements.  The  great  lack,  then,  was  the  lack 
of  a  tendency  to  imitate  the  foreigner.  Thus  everything 
comes  back  to  this.  The  first  condition  for  the  viability 
of  paper-making  on  a  large  scale  is,  undoubtedly,  a  suffici- 
ently general  habit  of  writing.  Besides,  machinery,  strictly 
speaking,  is  not  indispensable  to  industry  on  a  large  scale. 
There  is  manufacture  as  well  as  machine- facture.  In 
Rome,  before  the  days  of  the  printing  press,  there  were 
great  workshops  of  copyists  who  manufactured  editions  of 
Virgil  and  Horace  and  other  classics.  Here  was  an  excep- 
tionally extensive  industry,  because  it  appealed  to  the  schol- 
ars of  the  whole  Empire,  scholars  who  were  possessed  of 
the  same  education,  who  spoke  the  same  language,  and  who 
were  inspired  by  the  same  literary  tastes.1 

We  must  not  overlook  the  following  fact.  The  mere 
existence  of  a  similarity  of  wants  and  usages  is  not  suf- 
ficient to  make  industry  on  a  large  scale  possible.  Recogni- 
tion of  the  similarity  is  also  necessary.  In  the  Middle  Ages, 
according  to  Jusserand,  none  but  kings  and  their  suites, 
none  but  great  nobles,  pilgrims,  fugitive  criminals,  a  few 

1  The  slow  progress  of  industry  during  the  Middle  Ages,  and  even  in 
the  beginning  of  the  modern  era,  has  also  been  attributed  to  the 
absurdity  of  sumptuary  laws,  and  the  narrow  and  mechanical  organisa- 
tion of  corporations'.  But  here  again  we  have  but  the  consequences  of 
my  explanation.  Sumptuary  laws  checked  or  deadened  the  tendencv 
to  imitate  one  class  on  the  part  of  other  classes;  and  corporate 
monopoly  prevented  outside  producers  from  copying  the  processes  in 
use  by  members  of  the  corporation.  It  has  been  said  that  the  industrial 
prosperity  of  Germany,  even  before  1871,  was  due  to  its  tariff  union  or 
Zollverein.  But  suppose  that  those  petty  principalities,  those  free  towns, 
those  hundreds  of  past  fragments  of  present-day  Germany,  had  kept 
their  several  characteristic  wants  and  luxuries,  would  any  tariff  union 
have  been  possible?  Certainly  not 


"338  Laws  of  Imitation 

wandering  workmen,  minstrels,  preaching  and  begging 
friars,  and  hawkers  of  relics  and  indulgences,  passed  over 
the  bad  roads  of  the  periods.  From  this  enumeration  it 
appears  that  the  sole  or  principal  industry  of  exportation 
that  was  popular  at  this  epoch  was  the  sale  of  relics  and 
indulgences.  As  for  the  minstrels,  they  worked  only  for 
a  few  castles  and  for  one  or  two  royal  courts.  Does  this 
mean  that  the  people  had  only  one  desire  in  common, 
namely,  that  of  buying  relics  and  indulgences  ? *  No,  but 
this  similarity,  derived,  as  it  was,  from  a  common  religion, 
was  known  to  all,  whereas  the  other  resemblances,  in  gen- 
eral, were  not.  Nevertheless,  pilgrims  and  other  wander- 
ers helped  to  spread,  little  by  little,  the  originally  vague  con- 
sciousness of  these  resemblances.  They  even  helped  to  in- 
crease the  number  of  the  already  numerous  points  of  re- 
semblance. In  this  respect,  they  paved  the  way  for  the  in- 
dustry of  the  future.  The  preaching  friars  unconsciously 
contributed  to  the  same  end  in  assimilating  people's  minds, 
in  spreading  democratic  ideas  under  an  evangelical  guise, 
or  evangelical  ideas  under  a  democratic  guise.  In  this  way 
they  moved  souls,  and  this  is  always  the  right  road,  even 
to  material  well-being.  The  ardent  homilies  of  innumer- 
able Savonarolas,  the  preaching  of  Luther  and  his  follow- 
ers, the  passionate  theories  of  our  Encyclopedists,  were  all 
necessary  factors  in  causing  almost  all  classes  and  nations 
to  consciously  and  openly  dress  and  live  in  approximately 
the  same  way.  It  is  this  condition  which  permits  industry 
to  unfold  its  wings. 

Among  the  usages  whose  similarity  is  essential  to  exten- 
sive industry  there  is  one  which  it  is  important  to  consider 
above  all,  because  the  assimilation  of  all  the  others  would 
amount  to  very  little,  unless  it,  too,  were  assimilated.  I 
mean  that  which  is  concerned  with  the  regulation  of  price. 
I  freely  admit  that  some  logical  rule,  although  not  that, 


'This  gave  rise  to  an  entirely  new  luxury,  let  me  say  in  passing,  to 
one  which  the  most  luxurious  Romans  never  dreamed  of,  to  the  luxury 
of  shrines  and  reliquaries. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  339 

to  be  sure,  of  supply  and  demand,  as  applied  by  dogmatic 
economists,  but  one  more  precise  and  more  complete,  pre- 
sides over  the  formation  of  price  when  for  the  first  time 
any  specific  price  is  formed.  But  when  a  price  has  once 
been  established  as  a  result  of  an  openly  discussed  calcula- 
tion or  contract,  it  spreads  through  fashion  far  beyond  the 
places  where  those  special  conditions  which  rationally  de- 
termine it  prevail;  or  else,  it  persists  in  a  place  through 
custom  long  after  the  first  conditions  of  its  establishment 
there  have  disappeared.  But  although  this  persistence 
through  custom  or  diffusion  by  fashion  be  or  ought  to  be 
considered  by  classical  economists  as  an  abuse  or  trans- 
gression of  their  laws,  it  is  certain  that  without  this  persist- 
ance  or  diffusion,  according  to  the  period,  industry  would 
have  been  hindered  from  its  very  start.  Would  our  great 
commercial  houses  be  possible  if  each  of  the  towns  to 
which  they  express  their  innumerable  stores  wished  to  pay 
for  them  according  to  its  traditional  price  and  refused  to 
conform  to  their  uniform  price?  And  could  our  great  fac- 
tories carry  on  their  business  for  long  if  each  one  of  them 
insisted  upon  always  paying  the  same  customary  wages  to 
its  work-people  in  disregard  of  the  rise  or  fall  of  wages  in 
the  general  market?  Formerly,  on  the  other  hand,  when 
every  artisan  worked  with  a  view  to  the  future,  when  every 
perspective  in  the  narrow  circumference  of  contemporaneous 
time  was  closed,1  when  he  could  not  count  for  his  livelihood 
or  fortune  upon  the  extension  of  his  patronage  and  his  re- 
turns, when  he  could  count  only  upon  their  permanency, 
when  rigid  ties  bound  him  for  years  at  a  stretch  to  his 
patron,  and  when  the  patrons  themselves  were  bound  to- 
gether in  a  perpetual  association,  what  security  could  there 

1  On  this  subject,  I  take  the  liberty  of  referring  the  reader  to  two 
articles  which  I  wrote  for  the  Revue  philosophique,  in  September  and 
October,  1881,  under  the  title  La  Psychologic  en  economic  politique. 
See,  especially,  p.  405  and  the  following  in  that  volume  of  the  Revue. 
I  dealt  more  comprehensively  with  the  same  subject  in  1888,  in  the 
Revue  economique  of  M.  Gide,  under  the  title  Les  deux  Sens  de  la 
valeur.  (These  studies  were  reproduced  with  additions  in  my  Logique 
sociale,  1894.) 


340  Laws  of  Imitation 

have  been  for  either  consumers  or  producers  if  future  prices 
had  not  been  fixed  and  assured  in  advance?  Thus  the  cus- 
tomary fixation  of  prices  in  the  past  compensated  for  their 
local  variation,  just  as  in  the  present  their  uniformity  com- 
pensates for  their  changeability.  Some  day,  perhaps, 
they  will  end  by  being  both  fixed  and  uniform,  and  by  fur- 
nishing a  scope  and  steadiness  of  outlet  to  production  which 
will  increase  its  audacity  tenfold. 

In  fact  every  new  fashion  endeavours  to  become  rooted  in 
custom;  but  only  a  iew  are  successful  for  the  same  reason 
that  many  germs  are  abortive.  However,  the  introduc- 
tion of  only  a  few  foreign  wants,  or  of  novel  means  of 
satisfying  them,  suffices  to  complicate  the  consumption  of  a 
given  country;  for  pre-existent  wants  and  luxuries  do  not 
give  way  or  disappear  without  prolonged  resistance.  In 
Europe  the  habit  of  eating  bread  was  not  encroached  upon 
by  the  importation  of  Asiatic  rice,  any  more  than  in  Asia 
the  habit  of  eating  rice  suffered  to  any  serious  extent  from 
the  introduction  of  European  bread.  But  the  dietary  in 
both  places  became  complicated  by  a  new  element.  "  The 
mistake  was  made  in  France,1  at  the  time  of  the  signing 
of  the  commercial  treaty  of  1860,  of  thinking  that  French 
wines  were  going  to  replace  beer  in  the  United  Kingdom. 
We  fancied  that  we  could  make  our  wines  reach  a  class 
of  consumers  that  was  supposed  to  have  abstained  from  them 
because  of  their  high  tariff  and  consequent  high  price. 
This  forecast  was  ill-founded.  If  French  wine  has  made 
some  progress  in  British  markets,  it  is  only  among  a 
very  limited  circle  of  patrons,  of  which  neither  the  working 
classes  nor  even  the  majority  of  the  middle  classes  2  form 
a  part.  Although  our  alcoholic  products  are  better  appre- 
ciated to-day,  this  has  in  no  way  come  about  at  the  cost  of 
beer.  The  consumption  of  beer  has  always  increased  in 
very  different  proportions  from  that  of  foreign  wines." 

1  Journal  des  economistes,  February,  1882. 

*In  this  case,  as  everywhere  else,  we  see  that  the  higher  up  we  go  in 
the  social  scale,  the  slighter  the  attachment  we  find  to  native  habits,  and 
the  greater  the  openness  to  contagions  of  foreign  things. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  341 

Thus  wine  has  been  added  to  beer  in  England,  but  it  has 
in  no  respect  replaced  it. 

The  characteristics  which  the  rule  of  fashion  in  the  matter 
of  usages  inspires  in  industry  are  easy  to  guess.  In 
order  to  spread  through  a  kind  of  conquering  epidemic, 
language  must  become  more  regular  and  more  prosaic,  it 
must  take  on  a  more  logical  and  a  less  animated  air,  re- 
ligion must  become  more  spiritual,  more  rational  and  less 
original,  a  government  must  become  more  administrative, 
less  prestigious,  legislation  must  shine  through  the  reason 
and  equity  rather  than  through  the  originality  of  its  forms, 
finally,  an  industrial  system  must  develop  its  mechanical 
and  scientific  side  at  the  expense  of  its  spontaneous  and 
artistic  side./  In  a  word,  the  apparently  singular  fact 
is  that  the  rule  of  fashion  is  tied  to  that  of  reason.  I 
may  add,  to  that  of  individualism  and  to  that  of  naturalism. 
This  is  explained  when  we  consider  that  imitation  of  con- 
temporaries has  to  do  with  models  individually  considered, 
detached  from  any  parent  stock,  whereas  imitation  of  ances- 
tors emphasises  the  tie  of  hereditary  solidarity  between  the 
individual  and  his  forebears.  And  we  may  also  readily  per- 
ceive that  all  epochs  of  fashion-imitation — Athens  under 
Solon,  Rome  under  the  Scipios,  Florence  in  the  fifteenth 
century,  Paris  in  the  sixteenth  and,  later  on,  in  the  eighteenth 
century — are  characterised  by  the  more  or  less  trium- 
phant invasion  of  so-called  natural  law  (as  well  read  in- 
dividual law)  against  civil  law,  of  so-called  natural 
against  traditional  religion,  of  art  which  I  shall  also  call 
natural,  that  is  to  say,  of  art  which  is  faithfully  observant 
and  reflective  of  individual  reality,  against  hieratic  and  cus- 
tomary art,  of  natural  morality,  as  we  shall  soon  see,  against 
national  morality.  The  Italian  humanists  and  Rabelais, 
Montaigne,  Voltaire,  personify  this  naturalistic  and  indi- 
vidualistic character  under  divers  aspects.  Since  nothing 
is  more  natural  to  the  individual  human  being  than  reason, 
since  nothing  is  better  able  to  satisfy  individual  reason  than 
the  substitution  of  a  symmetrical  and  logical  order  for  the 
mysterious  complications  of  life,  we  must  not  be  surprised 


342  Laws  of  Imitation 

to  find  rationalism,  individualism,  and  naturalism  hand  in 
hand.  The  rule  of  fashion  is  distinguished  in  every  order 
of  things  by  the  blossoming  of  certain  great  and  free  in- 
dividualities. It  is  at  such  times  that,  in  language,  gram- 
marians, like  Vaugelas,  have  free  play;  even  the  wholesale 
makers  of  idioms,  of  Volapiik,  for  example,  can  hope  for 
some  success,  providing,  of  course,  their  reforms  have  the 
stamp  of  regularity  and  symmetry.  In  religion,  it  is  the 
era  of  great  reformers,  of  great  heretics  and  philosophers, 
who  succeed,  providing  they  simplify  and  rationalise  re- 
ligion. In  statecraft,  in  legislation,  it  is  the  epoch  of  illus- 
trious legislators  and  founders  of  empire,  of  men  who  per- 
fect codification  and  administration.  Economically,  it  is 
the  period  of  the  great  industrial  inventors  who  perfect 
machinery.  vEsthetically,  I  may  add,  it  is  the  time  of  glo- 
rious creators  of  art  who  carry  to  the  highest  point  of  me- 
chanical perfection  the  tricks t  and  devices  of  composition. 
Besides,  wherever  we  see  that  great  reputations  have  been 
made,  we  may  affirm  that  there  the  contagion  of  fashion 
has  raged,  although  each  of  these  glories  may  have  been 
the  point  of  departure  of  some  traditional  fetichism  that  is 
as  exclusive  and  tenacious  as  the  preceding  forms  of  fetich 
worship  which  it  destroyed.  The  Molierites,  for  example, 
with  their  prior  attachment  to  the  petty  traditions  of  the 
theatre  frangais,  must  not  make  us  forget  that  their  idol, 
Moliere,  was,  in  his  innovating  century  of  art,  the  most 
open-minded  man  to  innovations,  the  worst  enemy  to  fe- 
tiches. These  followers  of  Moliere  can  make  us  understand 
the  followers  of  Homer.  We  may  be  sure  that  Homer,  like 
Moliere,  appeared  in  an  age  of  imitative  expansion,  when 
all  the  Archipelago  and  the  whole  of  Asia  Minor  were  be- 
ginning to  open  out  to  the  radiations  of  Ionia. 

To  sum  up,  the  role  played  by  custom  and  fashion  in  the 
economic  sphere  closely  corresponds  to  the  action  exerted 
in  the  other  spheres  of  the  social  world  by  these  two  always 
co-existent,  but  alternately  increasing  and  decreasing,  forms 
of  imitation.  It  falls  without  any  difficulty  into  the  general 
law  which  I  have  formulated.  But,  in  addition,  the  reason 


Extra-Logical  Influences  343 

of  this  law,  of  this  vacillating  struggle  between  custom  and 
fashion  which  lasts  until  the  ultimate  triumph  of  the  former, 
is  at  present  suggested  to  us.  Since  every  invention  is  the 
centre  of  some  particular  imitation  which  emanates  from  it, 
the  desire  to  imitate  must  always  be  directed,  by  preference, 
towards  the  side  where  the  richest  galaxy  of  inventions  is 
shining,  that  is  to  say,  sometimes,  exclusively  towards  the 
past,  if  one's  ancestors  were  inventive  or  if  they  were 
more  inventive  than  one's  contemporaries,  and  sometimes, 
and  this  more  and  more  frequently,  towards  the  contempo- 
raneous and  the  foreign,  if  one's  contemporaries  are  more 
inventive  than  one's  own  ancestors.  Now,  these  two  situa- 
tions will  inevitably  alternate  for  a  long  time,  for,  as  soon 
as  some  mine  of  discoveries  is  disclosed,  all  the  world 
exploits  it,  and  it  does  not  take  long  for  it  to  become,  for  the 
time  being,  exhausted,  thereby  swelling  the  legacy  of  the  past 
until  some  new  vein  be  found;  and  when  the  last  of  these 
mines  shall  have  been  discovered,  we  shall  have  our  ances- 
tors alone  to  appeal  to  for  examples. 

There  is  a  certain  reciprocity  of  stimulation  between  the 
rule  of  fashion  and  the  progress  of  contemporary  invention 
which  should  not  make  us  fail  to  recognise  the  priority  of 
the  latter.  Undoubtedly,  as  I  have  said  already,  once  the 
current  of  fashion  has  been  set  free,  it  excites  the  inventive 
imagination  along  the  lines  that  are  the  fittest  to  accelerate 
its  overflow;  but  what  set  it  free,  if  it  was  not  the  impetus 
that  was  given  to  it  by  contact  with  some  neighbouring 
country  whose  fruitful  novelties  had  been  more  or  less  spon- 
taneously struck  out?  We  cannot  doubt  that  this  is  so  in 
our  own  century  in  whatever  has  to  do  with  industry;  for 
certainly  the  first  cause  of  that  fascination  which  causes  all 
European  peoples  to  imitate  one  another  was  steam  ma- 
chinery, which  led  to  production  on  a  large  scale,  and  of  rail- 
roads, which  led  to  the  distant  transportation  of  products — 
not  to  speak  of  telegraphs.  It  is  especially  in  the  matters  of 
industry  and  science  that  the  modern  imagination  has  had 
full  swing;  and  it  is  especially  on  its  economic  and  scientific 
side  that  it  has  broken  down  the  barriers  of  custom.  In 


344  Laws  of  Imitation 

matters  of  art,  on  the  contrary,  just  as  the  creative  Imagina- 
tion has  often  been  lacking  in  them,  so  the  spirit  of  tradition 
has  subsisted  in  them,  taken  as  a  whole.  The  details  are 
significant.  In  architecture  we  have  invented  almost  noth- 
ing; our  epoch  has  slavishly  copied  Gothic,  Roman,  and  By- 
zantine models.  In  this  respect  the  nineteenth  century  was 
as  much  given  over  to  tradition — at  least  until  the  advent 
of  what  might  be  called  architecture  in  iron — as  the  twelfth 
century  was  given  over  to  innovation. 

In  fact,  in  spite  of  the  partly  accidental  character  of  inven- 
tions, inventors  themselves  are  so  imitative,  that  there  is  in 
every  period  a  current  of  inventions  which  is  in  a  certain 
general  sense  religious  or  architectural  or  sculptural  or 
musical  or  philosophical.  There  are  certain  currents  of  imi- 
tation which  must  through  force  of  habit  precede  others. 
For  example,  the  mythological  genius  must  have  habitually 
— I  will  not  say,  with  Comte,  necessarily — exerted  itself  be- 
fore the  metaphysical  genius.  The  creative  genius  of  lan- 
guage was  most  certainly  prior  to  either.  And  this  was  the 
one  to  be  exhausted  first  of  all ;  so  we  should  not  be  surprised 
if  in  the  most  progressive  societies,  societies  which  are  the 
most  scornful  of  custom  in  other  respects,  the  empire  of  cus- 
tom in  what  has  to  do  with  language  prevails  more  and  more, 
day  by  day,  through  a  more  exaggerated  respect  for  orthog- 
raphy and  a  growing  spirit  of  philological  conservatism.  It 
seems  to  me  that  many  apparent  peculiarities  in  history  could 
be  explained  by  considerations  drawn  from  the  same  source. 
But  the  reader  will  be  able  to  make  for  himself  such  applica- 
tions as  I  have  not  indicated  here. 


VI.  Morality  and  Art 

Tastes  which  are  formulated  into  principles  of  art  and 
morals  which  are  formulated  into  principles  of  morality, 
alike  variable  according  to  time  and  place,  direct  two  im- 
portant parts  of  social  activity  and,  consequently,  form  part, 


Extra-Logical  Influences  345 

like  usages,  laws,  and  constitutions,  of  the  government  of 
societies,  in  the  large  and  true  meaning  of  the  word.  This 
is  so  true  that  the  more  moral  or  artistic  a  people  become, 
the  less  need  they  have  of  being  governed.  Consummate 
morality  would  make  the  coming  of  a-n-archy  possible.  But 
in  order  to  avoid  the  commonplaces  which  I  might  indulge 
in  in  this  twofold  subject,  I  wish  to  limit  myself  here  to  a 
very  brief  discussion.  I  need  not  prove,  I  think  it  is  enough 
to  merely  point  out,  the  religious  origin  of  art,  of  which  I 
spoke  in  a  previous  chapter,1  or  of  morality,  whose 
duties  were  at  first  understood  as  divine  commands.  /Moral 
sentiments  and  artistic  tastes  emanate,  then,  from  religion. 
Let  me  add,  from  the  family.  At  the  time  when  every  family 
and  tribe  had  its  own  language  and  worship,  it  had,  when 
it  was  artistically  well  endowed,  its  particular  art,  which  was 
piously  transmitted  from  father  to  son,  and  when  it  was  sup- 
plied with  sympathetic  instincts  it  had  its  particular  morality 
where  its  own  group  of  moral,  often  immoral,  prejudices 
and  of  odd  and  difficult  sacrifices  had  been  scrupulously  ob- 
served from  time  immemorial.  How  often  must  these  walled- 
up  arts  and  exclusive  morals  have  broken  down  their  barriers ! 
How  often,  after  their  overflow  outside,  must  they  have  shut 
their  doors  and  secured  themselves  behind  their  new  fron- 
tiers, only  to  push  them  forward  again  from  time  to  time  and 
from  age  to  age !  All  this  had  to  be  done  before  it  was  pos- 
sible to  see  on  this  earth  the  unheard-of  sight  of  many  vast 
nations  feeling,  at  the  same  time  and  in  about  the  same  way, 
the  beautiful  and  the  ugly,  good  and  evil,  admiring  or  mock- 
ing at  the  same  pictures,  the  same  novels,  the  same  dramas, 
the  same  operas,  applauding  the  same  acts  of  virtue  or  be- 
coming indignant  over  the  same  crimes,  crimes  that  are 
made  public  by  the  daily  press  in  the  four  corners  of  the 
globe  at  the  same,  time. 

1  Up  to  the  last  days  of  the  Roman  Empire,  public  spectacles  and 
celebrations  in  which  all  the  forms  of  art  were  displayed,  made  part 
of  the  solemnities  of  religion.  Moreover,  the  ancients  were  not  at  all 
familiar  with  the  entirely  modern  distinction  between  secular  and  sacred 
music. 


346  Laws  of  Imitation 

Under  this  new  aspect  the  world  shows  us  again  the  con- 
trast which  I  have  pointed  out  so  often.  Formerly,  in  those 
times  when  custom  predominated  in  art  and  in  morals  as  in 
religion  and  in  politics,  every  nation  and,  to  go  back  still 
further,  every  province  was  distinguished  from  neighbour- 
ing nations  and  provinces  and  cities  by  its  original  products 
of  jewelry,  chiselled  weapons,  ornate  furniture,  figurines 
and  poetic  legends  as  well  as  by  its  characteristic  vir- 
tues, so  that  often,  in  different  places,  the  beautiful  and 
the  good  appeared  quite  different;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
from  one  century  to  another,  in  each  country,  the  beautiful 
and  the  good  were  unchanging,  and  the  same  virtues,  the 
same  objects  of  art,  were  invariably  reproduced.  Nowadays, 
on  the  contrary,  in  our  era  of  widespread  and  penetrating 
fashions,  artistic  works  and  virtuous  acts  are  about  the  same 
everywhere,  upon  two  continents  at  least,  whereas,  from 
decade  to  decade,  not  to  say  from  year  to  year,  the  styles  and 
schools  of  painters,  musicians,  and  poets  are  transformed 
along  with  the  public  taste,  and  moral  maxims  are  them- 
selves worn  out  and  changed  and  renewed  with  alarming 
facility.  Nevertheless,  we  must  not  be  over-alarmed  by  this 
extraordinary  mutability,  if  it  be  true  that,  in  connection 
with  a  corresponding  universality,  it  is  related  to  a  whole 
series  of  rhythmical  oscillations  which  grow  bigger  and 
bigger  and  whose  consequences,  from  the  point  of  view  of 
morality,  especially,  have  been  most  salutary,  and  if  it  be 
true  that  the  experience  of  the  past  justify  us  in  counting 
upon  a  return,  in  the  more  or  less  immediate  future,  to  a 
reassuring  fixity  of  ideals,  joined,  at  last,  to  peace-bringing 
uniformity. 

However  simple  moral  duties  may  seem  to  those  who  have 
practised  them  for  a  long  time,  they  were  all  in  their  begin- 
nings individual  and  original  inventions,  inventions  which, 
like  all  others,  appeared  and  spread  one  after  the  other.1 

1  Buckle,  as  we  see,  was  strangely  mistaken  when  he  contrasted  the 
immutability  of  morality  with  the  progressive  character  of  intelligence 
and  science.  The  immutability  is  only  one  of  degree;  and  in  this 
relative  sense  the  antithesis  is  true. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  347 

They  were  instigated  and  helped  to  succeed,  at  times  by  the 
dogmas  of  a  new  religion  whose  practical  and,  usually,  ex- 
tremely strange  consequences  they  were  logical  in  scorning, 
at  times  by  the  new  conditions  of  social  life  with  which  they 
found  themselves  in  agreement.  It  is  in  this  way  that  suc- 
cessive inventions  of  art  owe  their  appearance  and  their 
fortune  to  changes  either  in  ideas  or  in  morals.  Respect  for 
old  age,  blood- feud,  hospitality,  bravery;  later  on,  la- 
bour, honesty,  respect  for  the  cattle,  or  fields,  or  women  of 
others ;  still  later,  patriotism,  feudal  loyalty,  almsgiving,  the 
emancipation  of  slaves,  the  relief  of  unfortunates,  etc.,  were 
ushered  in  in  the  different  ages  of  humanity,  like  the  Egyp- 
tian tomb,  or  the  Grecian  temple,  or  the  Gothic  cathedral. 
It  was  therefore  necessary  for  the  breath  of  fashion,  so  to 
speak,  to  blow  and  scatter  the  germ  of  every  new  duty  as 
well  as  that  of  every  new  thing  of  beauty  that  had  duly 
blossomed  forth  somewhere  or  other,  throughout  the  world, 
over  the  forbidding  walls  of  tribes  and  cities  shut  up  in  their 
traditional  art  and  morality.  Hence  the  contradictions 
which  arose  so  frequently  between  ancient  customs  and  im- 
ported examples,  and  this  partly  explains  the  so  frequently 
negative  character  of  moral  proscriptions  as  well  as  of 
canons  of  taste.  Thou  shalt  not  kill  thy  conquered  enemy 
to  devour  him,  thou  shalt  not  sell  thy  children  or  kill  thy 
slaves  without  a  motive,  thou  shalt  not  kill  or  beat  thy  wives 
except  for  infidelity,  thou  shalt  not  steal  thy  neighbour's 
ass  or  ox,  etc. — these  are  the  highly  original  and  much-dis- 
cussed prohibitions  which,  in  their  respective  epochs,  com- 
posed the  major  part  of  the  moral  code  of  every  people. 
Their  aesthetic  code  is,  likewise,  full  of  prohibitions  instead 
of  positive  directions  for  the  guidance  of  taste. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  in  what  has  preceded  that  the  senti- 
ment of  fraternity  as  well  as  of  equality  and  liberty  and 
justice,  that  is  to  say,  the  germs  and  soul  of  moral  life,  is  a 
modern  discovery.  That  which  is  modern  is  the  enormous 
compass  of  the  human  group  where  this  superior  sentiment 
is  supposed  to  rule.  This  sentiment  has  always  existed  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  but  it  exists  in  groups  which  become  more 


348  Laws  of  Imitation 

and  more  narrow  the  further  back  we  go  in  the  course  of 
history.  This  potent  and  exquisite  sentiment  is,  in  fact,  the 
very  sweetening  of  social  life,  its  peculiar  charm  and  magic, 
the  sole  counter-balance  to  its  inconveniences,  and  these  in- 
conveniences are  such  that,  if  this  unique  advantage  had  ever 
ceased  to  show  itself  in  any  society,  that  society  would  have 
fallen  straightway  into  dust.  They  who  have  seen  nothing 
in  primitive  humanity  but  combats  and  massacres,  but  the 
cannibalism  and  other  horrors  that  were  commited  by  one 
tribe  upon  another,  they  who  have  seen  nothing  but  the 
lashes  of  the  whip  upon  the  slave,  or  the  sale  of  little  children 
by  their  fathers,  these  people  have  not  understood  primitive 
societies.  They  have  looked  at  them  only  on  the  outside, 
they  have  not  penetrated  within.  The  inner  side,  the  essence, 
the  content  of  these  societies  is  the  relation  which  existed  in 
them  between  the  equals  which  composed  them,  between  the 
family  heads  of  the  same  tribe  or  clan,  between  the  citizens 
of  Sparta  or  Athens  in  the  agora,  between  the  nobles  of  the 
old  regime  in  a  drawing  room Always  and  every- 
where, passing  quarrels  excepted,  we  see  that  union  and 
peace  and  politeness  prevailed  in  the  reciprocal  relations 
that  were  established  between  these  equals,  who  in  them- 
selves exclusively  composed  the  social  group,  to  the  exclu- 
sion of  slaves,  of  minor  sons,  and  of  women,  not  to  mention 
strangers.  Strangers  are,  in  comparison  with  the  common 
interest  of  the  equals,  the  obstacle  to  be  overcome.  Minors, 
women,  and  slaves  are,  in  comparison  with  the  same 
interest,  a  mere  means  of  service.  But  neither  the  latter 
nor  the  former  are  associates. 

Only,  in  the  long  run,  contact  with  these  peers  inspires 
inferiors  with  a  lively  desire  to  be  admitted  into  their  magic 
circle,  to  force  the  circumference  of  their  fraternal  intimacy 
to  widen  out.  This  desire  is  realised  but  gradually  and  not 
without  difficulty,  not  without  revolutions.  How  is  it 
realised?  By  the  mere  play  of  long-continued  imitation.1 


1  The  Roman  plebeians  were  assimilated  with  the  patricians  through 
imitation.     According  to  Vico,  the  Roman  plebs  began  by  demanding 


Extra-Logical  Influences  349 

When  we  attribute  a  preponderating  share  in  this  result  to 
the  preaching  of  philosophers  or  theologians,  be  they  Stoics  or 
Apostles,  we  take  the  effect  for  the  cause.  A  moment  always 
comes  when,  from  having  copied  the  superior  in  everything, 
in  thought,  in  speech,  in  prayer,  in  dress,  and  in  general 
methods  of  life,  the  inferior  inspires  him  with  the  irresistible 
feeling  that  they  both  belong  by  right  to  the  same  society. 
Then  this  feeling  finds  expression,  ordinarily  in  an  exagger- 
ated form,  in  some  philosophic  or  theological  formula  which 
strengthens  it  and  which  favours  its  expansion.  When  Soc- 
rates, in  his  dialogues,  raised  somewhat  the  dignity  of 
women  and  even  of  slaves,  when  Plato,  going  still  further, 
dreamed,  in  his  Republic,  of  the  complete  equality  of  man 
and  woman  and  of  the  suppression  of  slavery,  it  was  because, 
in  contemporaneous  Athens,  women  had  begun  to  cross  the 
thresholds  of  the  gynecia,  and  because  the  slave  was  already 
assimilated  with  the  free  man.1  "  The  common  people  of 
Athens  do  not  differ  from  the  slaves  in  dress  or  in  general 
bearing  or  in  any  other  particular,"  says  Xenophon.  Be- 
sides, before  his  twofold  Utopia  could  be  realised,  it  was 
necessary  that  for  many  more  centuries  the  distance  between 
man  and  woman,  between  the  citizen  and  the  slave,  should 
continue  to  diminish  until  it  reached  the  point  that  was  at- 
tained under  the  Antonines.  Aristotle  was  much  more  con- 
sistent with  the  practical  morality  of  his  time  when  he  justi- 
fied slavery ;  and  the  contrary  opinion  of  the  first  masters  of 
Stoicism  on  this  point  remained  practically  unechoed  until 
the  day  when  the  world  was  ripe  for  the  words  of  Epio- 
tetus. 

Unfortunately,  friendship,  as  well  as  society,  is  "  a  circle 

"  not  the  right  of  contracting  marriages  with  the  patricians,  but  of  con- 
tracting marriages  like  those  of  the  patricians,  cunnubia  patrum,  and 
not  cum  patribus." 

1  Another  cause  which  may  have  contributed  to  softening  the  lot  of 
the  Athenian  slaves,  was,  I  think  the  inferiority  in  which  women 
were  kept  at  Athens,  and  in  all  the  rest  of  Greece.  We  see  in  the 
Alcestis  of  Euripides,  in  Xenophon,  and  elsewhere,  that  Greek  women 
inspired  their  slaves  with  an  affectionate  attachment,  due,  undoubtedly, 
to  their  common  life  and  common  subjection.  They  strove  side  by  side 
for  emancipation. 


350  Laws  of  Imitation 

which  deforms  itself  in  stretching  out  too  far,"  and  this 
serious  objection  has  instigated  the  resistance  of  conserva- 
tives of  all  periods  to  the  wishes  of  subject  classes  who 
aspired  to  equality.  But  it  is  necessary  for  this  objection  to 
fall  away  and  for  the  social  circle  to  widen  itself  out  to  the 
limits  of  humankind.  We  may  query  whether  the  gradual  ex- 
tension of  the  field  of  the  sentiment  of  which  I  am  speaking 
has  not  been  bought  at  the  price  of  its  intensity,  and  whether 
there  is  not  reason  for  thinking  that  in  the  past,  in  the  remote 
past  even,  it  was  much  more  intense,  where  it  existed,  than 
it  is  at  present.  Has  the  word  pietas  the  same  force  and  ful- 
ness of  meaning,  has  it  the  same  divine  unction,  for  us  that  it 
had  for  the  ancients  ? 

It  has  been  very  justly  observed  that  just  as  foreign  wars, 
the  Persian  Wars,  for  example,  tend  to  strengthen  the 
morality  of  the  belligerents,  so  civil  or  quasi-civil  wars,  the 
Peloponnesian  War,  for  example,  are  demoralising.  Why 
so?  The  same  means  are  used,  there  is  always  the  same 
trickery  and  violence.  But,  in  the  one  case,  it  is  directed 
against  a  group  of  men  who  were  strangers  to  one  another 
to  begin  with  and  who,  after  the  struggle  and  in  consequence 
of  the  contact  of  war,  become  so  much  less  strange  to  one 
another  than  they  were  before  that  they  usually  fall  to  copy- 
ing one  another;  whereas,  in  the  other  case,  they  are  directed 
against  a  group  of  men  who  were  before  that  one  another's 
social  brothers  and  relations,  one  another's  friends  and  com- 
patriots. Thus,  in  the  one  case,  in  that  of  foreign  war,  the 
social  field  has  not  been  curtailed,  it  even  tends  to  enlarge 
itself,  and  the  social  tie  is  strengthened;  in  the  other  case, 
the  social  field  is  diminutised  and  the  social  tie  is  weakened. 
Here,  then,  everything  is  social  loss;  and  that  is  why  we 
properly  talk  of  demoralisation.  There  is  no  better  illustra- 
tion of  the  eminently  social  character  of  morality. 

At  any  rate,  it  is  certain  that  from  century  to  century  the 
moral  public,  like  the  artistic  public,  has  not  ceased  to  extend 
itself,  not  by  constant,  but  by  intermittent,  aggrandisement. 
By  this  I  mean  that  the  group  of  persons  to  whom  the  indi- 
vidual recognises  that  he  owes  certain  duties  and  whose 


Extra-Logical  Influences  351 

opinion  influence  his  morality,1  just  as  the  circle  of  persons 
for  whom  the  artist  works  and  whose  judgments  count  for 
something  in  his  eyes,  has  gone  on  enlarging.  This  enlarge- 
ment has  been  twofold;  on  the  surface,  by  the  incessant 
pushing  forward  of  the  urban  and  provincial  and  national 
frontiers  across  which  the  virtuous  man  of  the  city  or  of  the 
province  or  of  the  nation  saw  no  one  to  whom  he  felt  under 
any  obligation  of  pity  or  justice  and  across  which  the  artist 
or  the  poet  saw  none  but  barbarians  ;2  and,  in  depth,  by  the 
lowering  of  the  barriers  which  separated  classes  and  limited 
the  horizon  of  duty  and  of  good  taste  for  each  of  them.  This 
was  a  progress  which  was  already  immense  of  itself,  but 
which  was  in  addition  accompanied  necessarily  by  an  inter- 
nal remodelling  of  morals  and  arts.  Now,  how  was  this 
progress  accomplished,  how  must  it  have  been  accomplished? 
We  have  first  to  answer  that  all  the  outbursts  and  o'.rerflow- 
ings  of  external  imitation  that  had  been  brought  about  from 
the  religious,  political,  industrial,  legislative,  or  linguistic 
point  of  view,  indifferently,  were  potent  contributions  to  this 
result,  through  assimilating  day  by  day  an  increasing  num- 
ber of  men.  If,  from  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
popular  rights  forbid  the  sacking  of  captured  cities,  the  en- 
slavement of  the  conquered  or  the  confiscation  of  his  goods, 
if,  from  the  same  epoch,  the  right  of  succession  to  the  estate 
of  a  deceased  alien  (droit  d'aubaine)  was  no  longer  claimed, 

1  See    on    this    subject    my    Criminalite   comparee,    p.  188    and    the 
following,  and  my  Philosophic  penale. 

2  We  can  follow,  in  certain  epochs,  the  stages  of  this  development. 
Up  to  Socrates,  only  the  spirit  of  the  city  reigned  in  the  little  Greek 
republics;  from  Socrates  to  Plato,  after  the  Persian  wars  and  the  work 
of  fusion  which  followed  them,  the  spirit  of  Greek  nationality  appeared 
(like  French  patriotism  after  the  Hundred  Years'  War).     Even  Plato 
thinks  of  the  Greek  and  of  the  Barbarian  as  two  distinct  beings,  although 
his  theory  of  ideas  ought  to  have  had  the  good  effect,  at  least,  of  bring- 
ing them  together  in  his  thought  under  the  idea  of  man.    The  conquests 
of  Alexander   extend   Greece   to  the  middle   of  Asia,  the  distinction 
between  Greece  and  Persia,  "  those  two  sisters,"  is  wiped  out,  and  the 
moral  field  is  singularly  enlarged;  but  outside  of  the  combination  of 
Persian  and  Greek,  man  is  not  recognised  as  a  brother.     Under  the 
Roman  conquest,  Greece,  Italy,  Spain,  Gaul,  Africa,  and  even  Germany, 
come  into  the  charmed  circle. 


352  Laws  of  Imitation 

if,  in  a  word,  duties  towards  the  stranger,  at  least  towards 
the  European  and  Christian  stranger,  came  to  be  recognised, 
it  is  largely  due  to  the  fact  that  this  innovating  century  gave 
a  remarkable  impetus  to  fashion-imitation  on  our  continent 
and  was  pre-eminently  distinguished  by  the  wide  paths  which 
it  opened  out  to  this  form  of  imitation.  If  Racine  wrote  for 
some  thousands  of  people  of  good  taste  in  France,  and  if  Vic- 
tor Hugo  has  written  in  our  day  for  some  millions  of  admir- 
ers in  France  and  Europe,  a  great  part  of  this  extension  of 
the  literary  public  is  due  to  the  fresh  inundation  of  the 
general  current  of  examples,  which,  after  the  conservative 
seventeenth  century,  was  brought  about  in  the  eighteenth 
century  and  which  still  flows  under  our  eyes.  Let  us  sup- 
pose that  the  steam  machine,  the  loom,  the  locomotive,  and 
the  telegraph  had  not  been  invented,  that  the  principal  facts 
of  modern  chemistry  and  physics  had  not  been  discovered, 
Europe  would  unquestionably  have  remained  broken  up  in 
an  endless  number  of  little  dissimilar  provinces,  a  state  of 
things  as  incompatible  with  a  broad  system  of  art  or 
morality  as  with  an  extensive  system  of  industry.  Thus  all 
the  good  ideas  which  have  civilised  the  world  may  be  con- 
sidered auxiliary  inventions  and  discoveries  of  art  and 
morality. 

But,  in  matters  of  morality,  at  least,  this  general  cause 
would  not  have  sufficed  to  bring  about  the  overthrow  of  the 
obstacles  which  were  in  the  way  of  the  enlargement  of  its 
domain.  To  the  ideas  which  indirectly  effected  this  prog- 
ress, must  be  added  those  which  had  it  for  its  direct  and 
more  or  less  conscious  object.  In  this  class  I  place  in  the 
first  rank  all  those  fictions  which  in  those  primitive  times 
when  it  was  necessary  to  be  related  by  blood  in  order  to  be 
social  and  moral  compatriots  created  artificial  systems  of 
consanguinity  and  extended  to  them  the  advantages  of 
natural  kinship.  Among  many  barbarian  peoples  the  custom 
prevails  of  cementing  an  alliance  by  mixing  together  a  few 
drops  of  the  blood  of  the  different  contracting  parties,  who 
thereby  become  in  a  sense  consanguineous.  Such  a  usage 
could  only  have  been  imagined  in  an  epoch  when  men  judged 


Extra  Logical  Influences  353 

themselves  under  moral  obligations  only  within  the  limits 
of  the  ties  of  blood;  and  Tylor  has  reason  to  celebrate  this 
as  "  a  discovery  of  a  solemn  means  of  extending  beyond  the 
narrow  limits  of  the  family  the  duties  and  affections  of  the 
fraternity."  Adoption  with  its  many  strange  forms  was 
another  no  less  ingenious  means  that  worked  towards  the 
same  end.  Finally,  the  practice  of  hospitality  might  well 
have  been  based  upon  some  analogous  idea.  The  fact  of 
entering  into  a  house,  into  the  domestic  temple,  might  well 
have  been  regarded  as  a  fictitious  incorporation  into  the 
family,  remotely  comparable  to  adoption  or  to  the  mingling 
together  of  drawn  drops  of  blood.  But  of  all  such  ingenu- 
ities, the  most  marvellous  and  the  most  fruitful  is  undoubt- 
edly the  word  of  Christ :  "  Every  man  is  thy  brother,  ye  are 
all  the  sons  of  God."  By  virtue  of  this  all  men  were  included 
in  one  blood-relationship. 

When,  through  these  processes  or  others  like  them,  or 
simply  as  a  result  of  the  levelling  of  civilisation,  a  more 
ample  opportunity  is  given  for  the  doing  of  upright  acts  or 
for  the  making  of  aesthetic  things,  we  see  peoples  or  classes 
who  had  before  been  cooped  up  by  their  own  peculiar  arts 
and  morals  inclined  to  interchange  them;  and  from  this 
common  tendency  results  the  triumph  of  a  higher  art  or 
morality,  which  is,  in  turn,  inevitably  transformed.  There 
is  the  same  difference  between  imported  morality  and  inbred, 
domestic  morality,  between  a  fashion-morality  and  a  custom- 
morality,  as  between  an  art  that  is  exotic,  that  is  acclimating 
itself,  and  an  art  that  is  indigenous.  The  inspiration  of  the 
latter,  in  spite  of  its  relative  age  and  immutability,  has  much 
more  freshness  and  force  and  originality.  We  have  no  cause 
to  wonder  at  this;  any  more  than  at  the  oddly  youthful 
energy  which  is  inherent  in  the  duties  that  are  imposed  by 
antique  customs,  in  the  duty  of  family  vengeance,  especially. 
But  there  are  other  points  which  I  prefer  to  emphasise. 

There  are  two  points  to  note  on  the  subject  of  art.  In  the 
first  place,  art,  in  the  ages  of  custom,  when  it  is  born  sponta- 
neously, without  any  wholesale  importation,  springs  up  from 
handicraft,  "  like  a  flower  from  its  stem,"  under  the  warmth 


354  Laws  of  Imitation 

of  religious  inspiration.  This  was  the  case  in  Egypt,  in 
Greece,  in  China,  in  Mexico  and  Peru,  and  in  Florence.1 
Architecture,  Gothic  or  otherwise,  is  born  of  the  builder's 
craft ;  the  painting  of  the  fourteenth  century,  of  illuminating, 
and  illuminating,  of  the  craft  of  the  copyists;  sculpture,  of 
mediaeval  cabinet-making,  of  the  tombs  of  Egypt;  modern 
music,  of  the  ecclesiastical  habit  of  intoning;  eloquence,  of 
the  professions  which  involve  speaking,  of  bench  and  bar; 
poetry  and  literature,  of  the  different  ways  of  speaking,  of 
narration,  of  instigation,  of  persuasion.  In  the  second  place, 
at  the  same  epochs,  the  work  of  art  answers,  not  to  the  need 
of  knowing  something  new,  which  is  peculiar  to  the  ages  of 
fashion  where  curiosity  is  excited  by  the  very  stimulants 
which  come  in  from  outside,  but  to  the  truly  loving  need  of 
seeing  again,  of  finding  again  with  tireless  and  ever  keener 
eagerness,  that  which  one  has  already  known  and  loved, 
admired  or  adored,  divine  types  of  ancestral  religion, 
divine  legends,  the  history  of  the  saints,  epic  tales  of 
national  history,  the  familiar  scenes  of  life  which  conform 
to  old  customs,  in  a  word,  the  traditional  emotions  which  are 
summed  up,  for  the  artist  and  for  his  public,  in  a  profound 
love  for  a  remote  past  and  in  a  profound  hope  in  a  long 
future  on  earth  or  in  the  posthumous  future  that  is  promised 
by  religion.  We  do  not  demand  the  expression  of  fleeting 
impressions  from  architecture  or  music,  impressions  that  are 
borrowed  from  foreign  or  from  dead  and  artificially  restored 
civilisations;  we  demand  from  them  a  vivid  expression  and 
reproduction  of  the  impressions  that  are  wrought  into  our 
life.  We  do  not  ask  sculpture  or  painting  to  invent  exotic 
or  imaginary  groups  and  scenes  and  landscapes,  but  to  repro- 
duce vividly  and  expressively  the  twelve  apostles,  St. 
Michael,  St.  Christopher,  Christ,  the  Virgin,  or  family  por- 
traits or  pictures  representing  the  city  of  our  birth  with  the 
dresses  and  celebrations  and  idiosyncracies  which  we  think 
will  last  forever.  We  do  not  ask  the  epic  or  drama  to  inter- 

1  At   Florence,  the   trades   which  were  called  the   arts,  and  which 
deserved  this  name,  were,  indisputably,  the  cradle  of  the  fine-arts. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  355 

est  us  by  keeping  us  in  ignorance  of  its  climax  or  by  the 
novelty  of  its  subject,  we  ask  it  to  vividly  reproduce  the 
legendary  lore  that  we  have  known  from  childhood,  the 
death  of  Prometheus  or  Hercules,  the  misfortunes  of  CEdi- 
pus,  the  drama  of  the  creation  from  Lucifer  to  Christ  or 
Anti-Christ,  the  death  of  Roland,  etc. 

These  are  the  two  principal  characteristics  of  art  proper 
in  the  ages  of  tradition.  It  may  be  seen  that  they  are  linked 
together.  The  art  of  these  ages  is,  I  will  not  say  industrial, 
but  professional,  because  it  is  formed  by  a  slow  accumulation 
of  aesthetic  processes  which  are  transmitted  with  useful  direc- 
tions from  father  to  son,  and  the  cause  which  has  produced 
this  effect,  that  is  to  say,  the  habit  of  having  one's  heart  and 
mind  always  turned  towards  the  past,  towards  one's  fore- 
bears and  their  subjective  models,  also  makes  it  necessary  for 
art  to  be  the  living  and  magical  mirror  of  a  past  that  is  itself 
still  living,  of  a  past,  in  other  terms,  that  is  full  of  faith  in 
its  own  future  existence,  instead  of  being  the  factitious 
resurrection  of  some  extinct  past  or  the  translation  of  some 
foreign  works.  In  ages  of  fashion,  on  the  contrary,  it 
must  naturally  happen  that  the  forms  of  imported  art 
show  themselves  detached  from  their  stem,  since  it  is  the 
flower,  and  not  the  stem,  that,  in  this  case,  attracts  curios- 
ity. Then  art  becomes  handicraft  more  often  than  handi- 
craft becomes  art.  And  curiosity,  the  characteristic  of 
these  epochs,  demands  a  misleading  and  irritating  kind  of 
satisfaction,  which  supplies  it  with  a  continuous  stream  of 
invention,  of  invention  to  order  and  by  formula,  of  novels 
and  dramas  based  upon  fictitious  happenings,  of  fantastic 
pictures,  of  unheard-of-music,  of  eclectic  movements, 
Curious  times  want  only  artists  of  imagination;  loving 
and  believing  times  want  artists  imbued  with  faith  and 
love. 

We  see  that  either  because  of  its  origin,  or  of  its  subject, 
or  of  its  inspiration,  the  art  of  fashion  differs 'from  the  art 
of  custom.  A  difference  that  is,  in  many  respects,  analo- 
gous, distinguishes  the  two  corresponding  kinds  of  moral- 
ity. Their  origin,  in  the  first  place,  is  quite  distinct.  The 


356  Laws  of  Imitation 

essentially  religious  virtues  of  tradition  are  the  natural 
flowering  of  the  wants  of  the  restricted  group  where  they 
blossom.  Reflected  virtues,  namely  those  of  a  lower  class 
that  seeks  to  appropriate  to  itself  the  moral  qualities  of  an 
aristocracy,  those  of  a  people  which  is  taking  moral  or 
immoral  lessons  from  another,  just  as  at  the  Restoration 
England  copied  French  morals,  these  reflected  virtues  are 
an  ethical  veneer,  an  arbitrary  decoration  of  the  every- 
day conduct  which  they  overlie,  but  which  is  not  in  touch 
with  them.  In  such  cases  the  borrowed  virtues  are  even 
unearthed  from  the  past,  but  from  a  dead  or  fashion- 
revived  past.  This  phenomenon  of  moral  mimicry,  by  which 
fashion  takes  on  a  false  air  of  custom,  is  not  at  all  rare  in 
history.  But  moral  reforms,  where  we  see,  for  example, 
virtues  which  had  their  raison  d'etre  among  the  Hebrew 
patriarchs  or  the  Christians  of  the  primitive  Church,  re- 
appearing in  the  midst  of  the  sixteenth  century  in  Europe, 
are,  in  reality,  innovations  which  have  been  born  in  the  soul 
of  an  apostle  in  love  with  a  past  which  he  fails  to  under- 
stand, and  which  have  subsequently  spread  abroad,  thanks 
to  the  general  drawing  of  people's  hearts  into  the  ways 
of  free  imitation.  In  this  they  absolutely  resemble  those 
literary  or  artistic  renascences,  another  kind  of  conven- 
tional archaism,  which  have  often  been  seen.  The  objects 
and  the  motives  of  the  two  kinds  of  morality  which  I  am 
comparing  are  no  less  clearly  distinguished.  Customary 
duties  impose  upon  the  individual  certain  sacrifices  in  view 
of  certain  peculiar  but  permanent  wants  of  his  walled-in 
and  exclusive  society,  of  his  family,  tribe,  city,  canton,  or 
state.  Borrowed  duties,  conventional  and  so-called  na- 
tional duties,  order  the  individual  to  sacrifice  himself  to 
more  general  interests,  to  interests  that  are  scattered  among 
a  large  number  of  men,  but  to  interests  which  are  often 
more  transient  and  less  lasting.  The  man  of  traditional 
times  draws  the  power  to  accomplish  the  sacrifice  that  is 
demanded  of  him  from  the  hereditary  solidarity  which 
makes  him  one  with  the  series  of  generations  in  which  he 
is  a  single  link,  in  such  a  way  that,  in  dying  for  his  family, 


Extra-Logical  Influences  357 

for  his  tribe,  or  for  his  city,  in  order  to  contribute  to  the 
immortality  of  the  great  collective  person  of  which  he 
is  a  part,  he  thinks  that  he  is  devoting  himself  to  himself. 
Moreover,  he  usually  draws  this  power  from  the  promises  of 
his  inherited  and  ancestral  religion.  This  double  source 
of  energy  dries  up  partly  or  wholly  for  the  man  of  an 
innovating  age.  In  such  ages  imitation  frees  itself  from 
heredity,  and  ties  between  kindred,  between  forebears  and 
descendants,  are  obliterated  by  the  connections  between  the 
unrelated  individuals  who  are  detached  from  their  fam- 
ilies x  and  brought  together  by  the  age.  In  such  ages,  the 
clash  of  different  religions  or  of  religion  and  philosophy 
tends  to  engender  scepticism.  But  the  men  of  these  pe- 
riods substitute  for  these  losses  in  part  an  entirely  new 
development  of  the  highest  kind  of  moral  energy,  the  senti- 
ment of  honour. 

I  mean  honour,  not  in  the  sense  of  family  and  aristocracy, 
but  in  the  democratic  and  individual  sense,  in  the  modern 
sense,  since  we  are  unquestionably  passing  through  a  period 
of  fashion-imitation,  one  which  is  pre-eminently  remarka- 
ble for  its  breadth  and  permanency.  This  second  mean- 
ing, dating  from  the  Italian  Renascence,  according  to 
Buckle,  must  in  reality  have  been  formed  wherever  the 

1  Hence  the  individualistic  character  of  fashion-morality,  analogous 
to  that  of  fashion-art.  This  means  that  in  the  eyes  of  the  artist,  as  in 
those  of  the  moralist,  individuals  begin  to  count  for  something  in  them- 
selves. But  this  does  not  prevent  duty  in  times  of  fashion  having 
very  general,  although  very  fleeting,  interests  for  its  object,  just  as  the 
works  of  art  of  the  same  times  excel  in  photographing  under  the  linea- 
ments of  an  individual,  widespread,  although  highly  variable,  psycho- 
logical states.  I  have  pointed  out  above  the  naturalistic  character  of 
fashion-morality  and  of  fashion-art.  "  In  the  second  half  of  the 
sixteenth  century,"  H.  Brunetiere  very  truly  says,  "  beneath  the  religious 
wars,  the  great  question  at  stake  is  to  know  whether  the  antique 
morality,  the  morality  that  was  founded  in  theology  on  the  dogma  of 
the  fall  of  man,  but  in  reality  upon  the  experience  of  the  natural 
perversity  of  man,  is  to  be  ousted  from  the  government  of  human 
conduct,  and  whether  nature  alone  will  suffice  from  this  time  on  to 
maintain  the  social  institution."  Here,  it  will  be  noted,  incidentally,  that 
the  inspiration  of  naturalism  and  individualism  coincides  with  the 
inspiration  of  optimism.  Is  it  that  pessimism,  I  mean  true  pessimism 
(the  pessimism  of  Christianity  and  Janseism,  for  example),  not  the 
pure  kind,  belongs  to  ages  of  custom,  and  optimism  to  ages  of  fashion  ? 


358  Laws  of  Imitation 

spread  of  public  morality  was  rapid  through  the  lowering' 
of  certain  social  barriers.  Why  is  it,  we  shall  be  asked, 
that  this  desire  for  personal  consideration  must  grow  while 
the  antique  bases  of  morality,  the  family  and  religion,  are 
being  more  and  more  undermined?  Because  the  same 
cause  which  shakes  the  latter  to  their  foundations  is  fit 
to  consolidate  and  extend  the  former,  I  mean  the  progress 
of  communication  and  of  the  indefinitely  accelerated  cir- 
culation of  ideas  in  a  domain  that  is  being  incessantly  en- 
larged far  and  beyond  the  walls  of  clans,  classes,  creeds, 
or  states.  The  substitution  of  fashion-imitation  for  cus- 
tom-imitation results  in  breaking  down  pride  of  birth  and 
dogmatic  belief,  but  it  also  results  in  arousing,  through 
the  progressive  assimilation  of  people's  minds,  the  irre- 
sistible power  of  public  opinion.  Now,  what  is  honour 
but  a  passive,  spontaneous,  and  heroic  obedience  to  public 
opinion  ? 

We  are  witnesses  to  the  birth  and  growth  of  this  new 
and  potent  motive,  whenever  a  young  conscript  passes  out 
from  the  paternal  roof  to  his  regiment.  At  the  end  of 
a  short  time,  he  no  longer  thinks  of  the  father  for  whom  he 
had  had  a  reverential  fear,  or  of  the  field  which  he  coveted, 
or  of  the  young  girl  whom  he  was  courting  with  the  idea 
of  founding  a  family;  he  thinks  still  less  of  the  catechisings 
of  his  curate.  All  the  springs  of  his  laborious  honesty 
and  of  his  relatively  pure  morals  have  dried  up.  But  his 
morality  has  changed  rather  than  degenerated,  and  what 
he  has  lost  in  continence  or  in  love  of  work  he  has  re- 
gained in  courage  and  in  probity,  because  in  addition  to 
the  thought  of  court-martial  he  has  had  to  sustain  him  in 
his  life  of  barrack-room  discipline  and  at  his  post  of  duty 
on  the  field  of  battle  the  idea  of  avoiding,  even  at  the  price 
of  death,  shame  or  humiliation  in  the  eyes  of  his  com- 
rades. At  the  same  time  he  is  conscious  of  being  useful 
in  the  accomplishment  of  his  new  duties  to  a  mass  of  men 
who  have  just  become  his  fellows,  to  the  great  country 
which  is  assimilating  him  and  for  which  he  formerly  cared 
so  little,  absorbed  as  he  was  in  his  domestic  preoccupations. 


Extra-Logical  Influences  359 

To  this  I  may  add  that  if  his  new  morality  is  adapted 
to  the  care  of  more  numerous,  less  personal,  and  more  ex- 
tensive interests,  his  old  morality  was  fitted  to  watch  over 
less  momentary  and  more  lasting  interests.  In  any  case, 
the  effect  of  the  sacrifices  that  are  required  by  his  new 
duties  reaches  much  farther,  proportionally,  in  space  than 
in  time,  whereas,  formerly,  the  sacrifices  demanded  of  him 
by  his  duties  had  a  utility  that  was  narrowly  hemmed  in 
by  his  immediate  surroundings,  but  that  was  relatively  con- 
siderably prolonged  into  the  future.  All  the  strictly  do- 
mestic and  patriarchal,  local  and  primitive  virtues,  female 
chastity,  for  example,  are  privations  that  are  undergone 
for  the  advantage  of  a  single  family,  to  be  sure,  but  for 
the  advantage  of  the  whole  posterity  of  that  family.  In- 
versely, modern  morality,  which  is  very  indulgent  to  the 
vices  for  which  our  grandchildren  will  alone  have  to  suffer, 
blames  severely  the  faults  which  may  react  harmfully  upon 
Our  contemporaries,  remote  though  these  contemporaries 
may  be.  In  this,  it  seems  as  if  the  morality  of  ages  of  fash- 
ion resembled  their  politics.  Whatever  may  be  the  form  of 
their  government,  the  statesman  of  to-day  differ  from  those 
of  other  days  both  in  their  enlarged  horizon  of  watchful- 
ness over  a  larger  number  of  similar  interests  subject  simul- 
taneously to  identical  laws,  and  by  their  much  shorter 
range  of  foresight.  Formerly  the  feudal  king  of  the  Isle- 
de-France,  shut  up  in  his  narrow  domain,  looked  forward 
from  the  start  to  the  development  in  future  ages  of  this 
fine  realm  of  France  and  he  toiled  painfully  on  in  the  pur- 
suit of  this  future  ideal.  We  have  seen  the  kinglet  of 
petty  Prussia  sacrifice  the  present  in  his  calculation  of  a  far 
distant,  imperial  future  which  his  grandchildren,  alas !  have 
seen  shine.  Nowadays,  would  any  political  assembly  in 
any  country  whatsoever,  beginning  with  Germany,  consent  to 
sacrifice  some  actual  interest  in  view  of  some  benefit  from 
which  only  the  second  or  third  generation  to  follow  would 
profit?  Far  from  that,  it  is  to  our  descendants  that  we 
charge  up  the  bill  of  our  debts  and  follies.  I  need  not 
explain,  after  all  that  has  been  said,  how  this  striking  con- 


360  Laws  of  Imitation 

trast,  this  offsetting  by  extension  of  abbreviations  in  dura- 
tion, is  related  to  the  distinction  between  the  two  forms  of 
imitation. 

But  if  it  is  true  that  every  stream  of  fashion  tends  to 
betake  itself  to  the  big  and  tranquil  lake  of  custom,  this 
contrast  can  be  but  temporary.  Without  doubt,  as  long 
as  the  stream  flows,  the  prescriptions  or  interdictions  of 
morality  will  bear  less  and  less  upon  acts  that  are  useful  or 
prejudicial  to  our  children  or  grandchildren  alone,  espe- 
cially upon  certain  facts  of  conjugal  fidelity  or  infidelity, 
of  filial  piety  or  domestic  waywardness,  of  cowardice  or 
patriotic  bravery,  which  were  considered  in  other  days 
cardinal  virtues  or  capital  crimes,  but  whose  salutary  or 
disastrous  effects  are  experienced  only  in  the  long  run. 
After  me,  the  deluge,  society  will  say.  Unfortunately, 
society  might  end  by  perishing  from  the  too  frequent  reit- 
eration of  this  phrase.  Besides,  we  have  reason  for  think- 
ing that  after  a  time  of  progressive  but  transitory  short- 
sightedness, collective  forethought  will  begin  again  to  ap- 
ply itself  to  time  after  it  has  vent  itself  upon  space,  and 
that  nations  will  become  as  widely  conscious  of  their  per- 
manent as  of  their  general  interests.  The  moment  will 
arrive  when  civilisation  will,  finally,  at  its  culminating  point, 
draw  back  upon  itself,  just  as  it  has  already  done  so  many 
times  in  the  course  of  history,  in  Egypt,  in  China,  at 
Rome,  at  Constantinople.  .  .  .  The  past  speaks  for  the 
future.  Then  morality  will  become  again,  in  many  re- 
spects, what  it  has  been,  distinguished  for  grandeur  and 
logic.  Casuistry  will  spring  up  again  in  a  more  rational  set- 
ting. To  the  duties  of  honour,  an  artificial  morality  which 
contents  an  age  enslaved  to  a  fickle  public  opinion,  the  duties 
of  conscience,  as  our  fathers  knew  them,  will  succeed. 
They  will  be  as  imperious,  as  absolute,  as  deeply  rooted 
in  the  human  heart,  but  they  will  be  superior  in  light  and 
reason.  And  at  the  same  time,  art,  turning  back  from  its 
brilliant  vagaries,  will  drench  itself  again  in  the  profound 
sources  of  faith  and  love. 

There  is  much  to  be  said  in  explanation  of  the  historic 


Extra-Logical  Influences  361 

phenomenon  of  renascences,  the  hybrid  phenomenon  of 
fashion  and  custom,  to  which  I  referred  above.  It  is  a 
subject  which  is  a  little  distinct  from  that  of  the  present 
chapter,  for  in  connection  with  it  we  do  not  see  a  new  fash- 
ion becoming  in  its  turn  a  custom,  but  we  see  it  taking  on 
the  aspect  of  some  ancient  custom.  This  additional  re- 
lation of  the  two  branches  of  imitation  deserves  to  be 
examined.  In  science  and  industry,  an  entirely  new  idea 
and  one  that  it  gives  itself  out  as  new,  can  spread  through 
fashion;  for  in  its  birth  it  brings  with  it  experimental 
proofs  of  truth  and  utility.  But  the  case  is  different  in 
the  fine  arts,  in  religion,  in  literature,  in  philosophy  itself 
up  to  a  certain  point,  in  statecraft,  in  morals,  and,  finally5 
wherever  the  choice  of  solutions  is  abandoned  in  large 
measure  to  the  discretionary  power  of  the  judgment  and  is 
unable  to  depend  upon  a  rigid  demonstration.  In  this  case* 
upon  what  authority,  that  of  facts  being  pretty  nearly  lack- 
ing,  could  fashion  depend  for  the  triumph  of  its  novelties 
over  the  old  strongholds  of  custom?  By  what  right  is 
she  entitled  to  array  the  products  of  enterprising  reason  or 
imagination  against  time-proved  rules  and  ideas  and  insti- 
tutions? |  Therefore,  if  she  wish  to  succeed,  she  must  as- 
sume the  mask  of  the  enemy  and  besiege  existing  custom 
by  unearthing  some  ancient  custom  long  since  fallen  into 
discredit  and  rejuvenated  for  the  needs  of  her  cause.  And 
so  we  see  all  religious  reforms  pretending,  with  more  or 
less  complete  sincerity,  to  return  to  the  forgotten  sources 
of  the  religion  upon  which  they  were  grafted.  This  was  the 
pretence  of  the  protestantism  of  all  the  sects  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  the  first  century  to  inaugurate  the  grande  mode  of 
modern  times.  It  was  also  the  pretence  of  the  Mussulman 
sect  of  the  Ouahabites,  which  was  born  in  the  eighteenth 
century  and  which  spread  and  is  still  spreading  in  Asia 
and  Africa,  where  it  boasts  of  steeping  Islam  again  in 
the  primitive  Koran  (see  Revue  scientifique,  November  5, 
1887).  And  this  is  the  pretence  of  all  the  sects  which 
swarm  over  the  old  but  still  fruitful  trunks  of  Hindooism 
and  Brahmanism  and  which  think  that  they  are  restoring 


362  Laws  of  Imitation 

the  antique  religion  of  India  to  its  original  state.  This 
was  also  the  thought  of  Buddhism,  the  Protestantism  of 
the  East. 

If  this  is  so  with  religious  reforms,  it  is  no  less  so  with 
reforms  in  literature  or  art.  When  fresh  sap  begins  to  cir- 
culate in  the  souls  of  artists  and  poets,  it  is  under  the  form 
of  a  renascence  of  some  distant  past  which  it  interprets 
to  the  outer  world.  Shall  I  cite  the  humanism  of  the  Italian 
Renascence,  the  Ciceronianism  of  Erasmus,  the  neo-Hellen- 
ism  or  neo-Latinism  of  the  architects  and  sculptors  and 
painters  of  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries,  the  neo- 
Gothic  flavour  of  the  romanticism  of  1830?  From  the  time 
of  Hadrian,  the  craze  for  Latin  poetry,  which  had  raged 
among  the  upper  classes  at  Rome  from  the  time  of  Augus- 
tus, and  which  had  spread  step  by  step  to  the  provinces, 
began  to  subside.  Why?  Because  a  new  fashion  put  in 
its  appearance,  that  of  the  new  Greek  sophists,  whose  art 
had  been  born  again — a  true  renascence,  indeed, — and 
had  aroused  admiration  and,  later  on,  general  imita- 
tion. This  fascination  lasted  a  long  time  and  produced 
a  factitious  and,  likewise,  archaic  reawakening  of  Greek 
patriotism. 

The  same  thing  is  true  of  legislative  reform.  The  top  of 
fashion,  in  this  connection,  was  a  fashion  which,  in  the  six- 
teenth century,  made  all  the  codes  of  Europe  uniform.  It 
consisted  of  unearthing  the  Corpus  Juris  and  of  introducing 
under  cover  of  the  Roman  name  all  the  salutary  or  perni- 
cious usurpations  of  lawmakers  or  kings  or  emperors.  The 
same  thing  is  even  true  of  political  reforms.  Sometimes  this 
is  obvious.  The  French  parliament,  for  example,  in  in- 
augurating an  entirely  new  and  original  control  of  the  royal 
power  by  judicial  authority,  invoked  the  antique  customs 
of  the  Franks  and  imagined  that  they  were  resurrecting 
the  political  constitution  that  they  saw  in  their  dreams. 
At  other  times,  although  it  is  less  obvious,  it  is  none  the 
less  true.  Even  the  French  Revolution  prided  itself  upon 
copying  Athens  and  Sparta.  Finally,  the  very  boldest  of 
philosophers,  men  who  were  the  least  respectful  of  prece- 


Extra-Logical  Influences  363 

dents,  our  French  Encyclopedists,  judged  that  the  support 
that  logic  seemed  to  lend  to  their  plans  of  social  recon- 
struction was  insufficient;  and  the  at  times  sincere  desire 
to  rediscover  the  forgotten  attributes  of  the  human  race, 
to  reproduce  in  its  primal  purity  the  supposed  state  of 
nature,  combines  in  their  writing,  as  well  as  it  can,  with 
their  cult  of  Reason.  A  great  deal  of  prehistoric  archaeology 
is  mixed  up  with  their  idealogy. 

Moreover,  renascences,  let  me  repeat,  are  more  apparent 
than  real.  Burckhardt  shows  that  the  resurrection  of  an- 
tiquity was  only  one  of  the  innovations  of  the  fiftenth  cen- 
tury in  Italy,  of  the  Italian  Renascence,  and  that,  in  its 
re-birth,  Greek  and  Latin  antiquity  was  strongly  Italianised. 
Besides,  this  innovation  was  only  a  fashion  following,  like 
any  other,  in  the  tail  of  certain  discoveries,  namely,  the 
archaeological  discoveries  resulting  from  the  diggings  in  the 
sacred  soil  of  antique  Rome  or  in  the  libraries  of  the  mon- 
asteries. Prior  to  these  numerous  finds  of  statues,  inscrip- 
tions, manuscripts,  and  ruins  of  all  kinds,  antiquity  may 
well  have  been  taken  on  faith  and  admired,  but  it  could  not 
have  been  imitated. 

The  Reformation,  I  may  say,  was  only  a  German  Re- 
nascence, just  as  the  Renascence  was  only  an  Italian  Refor- 
mation. The  return  to  life  and  youth  which  Italy  exacted 
from  the  old  classical  antiquity  that  she  was  said  to  be 
imitating,  Germany  demanded  from  its  alleged  and  still 
more  imaginary  imitation  of  primitive  Christianity.  (It 
would  be  a  mistake,  between  parentheses,  to  see  in  the  first 
of  these  two  movements  merely  the  prelude  of  the  second. 
The  Humanists  were  merely  the  chance  allies  of  the  Luther- 
ans. As  a  matter  of  fact,  each  movement  was  a  complete 
evolution  in  itself.  The  Renascence  was  not,  as  has  been 
said,  a  superficial  revolution  of  people's  souls;  it  was,  for 
a  narrow  group  of  souls  reared  in  the  aristocracy  of  art 
and  intellect,  a  profound  dechristianisation  which,  under- 
neath the  Reformation,  was  to  spread  among  us  in  the 
eighteenth  century.)  As  the  Renascence  was  connected 
with  discoveries  in  arts  and  letters,  so  the  Reformation  pro- 


364  Laws  of  Imitation 

ceeded,  in  large  part,  from  the  invention  of  printing.  The 
idea  of  acquiring  by  the  mere  reading  of  sacred  books  the 
highest  type  of  knowledge,  a  full  solution  of  the  most 
difficult  problems,  could  only  have  arisen  when  the  sudden 
and  extraordinary  diffusion  and  invasion  of  books,  hitherto 
unknown,  had  developed  a  general  epidemic  of  reading  and 
of  the  illusion  of  thinking  that  books  were  the  source  of  all 
truth.  It  was  perhaps  because  of  this,  Germany  being  the 
birthplace  of  printing,  that  Protestantism  was  German  in 
its  origin.  Otherwise,  this  fact  would  be  surprising,  for, 
prior  to  the  Reformation,  all  great  heresies,  all  attempted 
rebellions  against  the  Church,  started  from  the  South  of 
Europe,  a  more  civilised  region  than  the  North. 

Fashion  and  custom  have  still  another  relation  of  which 
I  have  not  spoken,  and  which  requires  to  be  distinguished 
both  from  the  revival  of  an  antique  custom  by  a  recent 
fashion  and  from  the  consolidation  of  a  fashion  into  a 
custom.  I  refer  to  the  very  frequent  cases  in  which  a 
new  fashion  creeps,  in  order  to  introduce  itself,  under  a  still 
living  custom  which  it  insensibly  changes  and  appropriates 
to  itself. 

For  example,  it  has  been  noted  that  long  after 
the  importation  of  bronze  among  communities  that  had 
previously  been  restricted  to  the  chipping  of  flints,  bronze 
tools  and  weapons  were  made  to  imitate  the  forms  of  en- 
tirely outworn  tools  and  weapons  of  flint.  It  has  also  been 
proved  that  Greek  architecture  is  explained  by  the  reproduc- 
tion in  stone  or  marble  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  huts  of 
the  primitive  populations  of  Hellas,  The  most  ornate 
columns  of  the  temples  of  Miletus  or  Athens  were  modelled 
upon  ancient  wooden  structures.  The  architectural  type 
of  China  is  explained  by  the  primitive  tent.  What  does 
this  mean  but  the  grafting  of  new  fashions  upon  the  still 
living  trunk  of  old  customs?  Does  it  not  imply  the  neces- 
sity of  this  grafting  among  societies  based  on  custom,  and  is 
it  not,  above  all,  an  act  of  art  and  of  morality  in  order  to 
make  innovations  live  and  endure?  When  the  fashion  of 
iron  or  marble  was  introduced  after  the  example  of  foreign 


Extra-Logical  Influences  365 

peoples,   the  only   way   it  could   become   acclimated   was 
through  adopting  the  uniform  of  national  usages. 

An  entirely  parallel  phenomenon  is  produced  when  new 
maxims  or  sentiments  of  morality  filter  into  a  social  group 
whose  horizon  tends  to  enlarge  and,  in  order  to  make  them- 
selves acceptable,  have  to  have  themselves  introduced  by  the 
very  prejudices  whose  place  they  are  taking.  Thus  in  a 
clan  where  only  contracts  between  blood  relations  have 
ever  been  recognised  as  valid,  contracts  are  made  with 
strangers  by  means  of  such  ceremonies  as  the  intermingling 
of  drops  of  blood  to  counterfeit  consanguinity.  Thus, 
when  the  feudal  disintegration  of  the  Middle  Ages  began 
to  give  way  to  monarchical  centralisation,  the  duty  of 
fidelity  to  the  king,  which  was  soon  to  be  substituted  for  the 
duty  of  the  vassal  towards  his  over-lord,  began  by  affecting 
a  feudal  colour,  and  seemed  to  express  nothing  more  than 
a  more  general  tie  of  vassalage,  etc. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

REMARKS  AND  COROLLARIES 

AFTER  having  studied  the  principal  laws  of  imitation  we 
have  still  to  make  their  general  meaning  clear,  to  complete 
them  by  certain  observations,  and  to  point  out  several  im- 
portant consequences  which  proceed  from  them. 

/The  supreme  law  of  imitation  seems  to  be  its  tendency 
towards  indefinite  progression.  This  immanent  and  im- 
mense kind  of  ambition  1  is  the  soul  of  the  universe.  It 
expresses  itself,  physically,  in  the  conquest  of  space  by  light, 
vitally,  in  the  claim  of  even  the  humblest  species  to  cover 
the  entire  globe  with  its  kind.  It  seems  to  impel  every  dis- 
covery or  innovation,  however  futile,  including  the  most 
insignificant  individual  innovations,  to  scatter  itself  through 
the  whole  of  the  indefinitely  broadened  social  field.  But 
unless  this  tendency  be  backed  up  by  the  coming  together 

1  Let  me  express  the  full  depth  of  my  thought  upon  the  unknown  and 
•unknowable  source  of  universal  repetitions.  It  may  be  that  an  immense 
and  all-pervasive  ambition  is  not  a  sufficient  explanation.  I  confess 
that  at  times  another  occurs  to  me.  I  reflect  upon  the  fact  that  delight 
in  endless  and  tireless  self-repetition  is  one  of  the  signs  of  love;  that 
it  is  the  peculiarity  of  love,  both  in  art  and  life,  to  continually  say  and 
resay  the  same  thing,  to  continually  picture  and  repicture  the  same 
subject.  Then  I  ask  myself  whether  this  universe,  which  seems  to 
delight  in  its  monotonous  repetitions,  might  not  reveal,  in  its  depths, 
an  infinite  outpouring  of  hidden  love,  greater  even  than  that  of  ambition. 
I  cannot  keep  from  conjecturing  that  all  things,  in  spite  of  intestine 
struggles,  have  been  made,  separately,  con  amore,  and  that  only  in  this 
lies,  evil  and  misfortune  notwithstanding,  the  explanation  of  their  beauty. 
And  yet,  at  other  times,  in  reflecting  upon  death,  I  am  led  to  justify 
pessimism.  Everything  repeats  itself,  and  nothing  persists.  These  are 
the  two  characteristics  of  our  universe,  the  second  growing  out  of  the 
first.  Why  should  it  be  chimerical  to  conceive  of  a  perfect  world,  of  a 
world  that  was  both  stable  and  original,  where  everything  lasted,  and 
where  nothing  repeated  itself?  But  a  truce  to  these  dreams! 

366 


Remarks  and  Corollaries  367 

of  inventions  which  are  logically  and  Ideologically  auxil- 
iary, or  by  the  help  of  the  prestige  which  belongs  to  al- 
leged superiorities,  it  is  checked  by  the  different  obstacles 
which  it  has  successively  to  overcome  or  to  turn  aside.  These 
obstacles  are  the  logical  and  teleological  contradictions 
which  are  opposed  to  it  by  other  inventions,  or  the  barriers 
which  have  been  raised  up  by  a  thousand  causes,  by  racial 
pride  and  prejudice,  for  the  most  part,  between  different 
families  and  tribes  and  peoples  and,  within  each  people  or 
tribe,  between  different  classes.  Consequently,  if  a  good 
idea  is  introduced  in  one  of  these  groups,  it  propagates 
itself  without  any  difficulty  until  it  finds  itself  stopped  short 
by  the  group's  frontiers.  Fortunately,  this  arrest  is  only 
a  slowing  up.  It  is  true  that,  at  first,  in  the  case  of  class 
barriers,  a  happy  innovation  which  has  happened  to  origi- 
nate and  make  its  way  in  a  lower  class,  does  not,  dur- 
ing periods  of  hereditary  aristocracy  and  of  physio- 
logical inequality,  so  to  speak,  spread  further,  unless  the 
advantage  of  adopting  it  appear  plain  to  the  higher  classes; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  innovations  which  have  been  made 
or  accepted  by  the  latter  classes  easily  reach  down,  as  I 
have  shown  already,  to  those  lower  levels  which  are  accus- 
tomed to  feel  their  prestige.  And  it  happens  that,  as  a 
result  of  this  prolonged  descent,  the  lower  strata  gradually 
mount  up,  step  by  step,  to  swell  the  highest  ranks  with  their 
successive  increments.  Thus,  through  assimilating  them- 
selves with  their  models,  the  copies  come  to  equal  them,  that 
is,  they  become  capable  of  becoming  models  in  their  turn, 
while  assuming  a  superiority  which  is  no  longer  hereditary, 
which  is  no  longer  centred  in  the  whole  person,  but  which 
is  individual  and  vicarious.  The  march  of  imitation  from 
top  to  bottom  still  goes  on,  but  the  inequality  which  it 
implies  has  changed  in  character.  Instead  of  an  aristo- 
cratic, intrinsically  organic  inequality,  we  have  a  demo- 
cratic inequality,  of  an  entirely  social  origin,  which  we  may 
call  inequality  if  we  wish,  but  which  is  really  a  reciprocity 
of  invariably  impersonal  prestiges,  alternating  from  individ- 
ual to  individual  and  from  profession  to  profession.  In 


368  Laws  of  Imitation 

this  way,  the  field  of  imitation  has  been  constantly  growing 
and  freeing  itself  from  heredity. 

In  the  second  place,  in  regard  to  barriers  between  fami- 
lies, tribes,  or  peoples,  it  is  equally  true  that  while  the  knowl- 
edge or  institutions  or  beliefs  or  industries  which  belong 
to  any  group  while  it  is  powerful  and  triumphant,  spread 
without  difficulty  to  neighbouring  groups  that  have  been 
conquered  and  brought  low;  on  the  other  hand,  the  examples 
of  the  weak  and  vanquished,  if  we  except  the  case  of  those 
whose  civilisation  is  obviously  superior,  are  practically  non- 
existent for  their  conquerors.  Hence  it  follows,  paren- 
thetically, that  war  is  much  more  of  a  civiliser  for  the 
conquered  than  for  the  conqueror,  for  the  latter  does  not 
deign  to  learn  from  the  former,  whereas  the  former  submits 
himself  to  the  ascendency  of  victory  and  borrows  from  his 
enemy  a  number  of  fruitful  ideas  to  add  to  his  national  store. 
The  Egyptians  took  nothing  from  the  books  of  the  captive 
Hebrews.  They  made  a  great  mistake.  Whereas  the  Jews 
gained  much  inspiration  from  the  hieroglyphics  of  their 
masters.  But,  as  I  have  said,  when  a  people  dominates 
others  through  its  brilliancy,  others,  who  heretofore  had 
imitated  none  but  their  forefathers,  imitate  it.  Now,  this 
extra-national  propagation  of  imitation,  to  which  I  have 
given  the  name  of  fashion,  is,  at  bottom,  merely  the  appli- 
cation to  the  relations  between  states  of  the  law  which 
governs  the  relations  between  classes.  Thanks  to  the  in- 
vasion of  fashion,  imitation  always  descends  from  the 
state  which  is  for  the  time  being  superior  to  those  which 
are  for  the  time  inferior,  just  as  it  descends  from  the  high- 
est to  the  lowest  rungs  of  the  social  ladder.  Conse- 
quently, we  shall  not  be  surprised  to  see  the  rule  of  fashion 
producing  effects  in  the  former  case  similar  to  those  pro- 
duced by  it  in  the  matter.  In  effect,  just  as  the  radiation  of 
the  examples  of  the  higher  classes  results  in  preparing  the 
way  for  their  enlargement,  where  imitation  is  facile  and 
reciprocal,  through  the  absorption  of  the  lower  classes  by 
them,  so  the  contagious  prestige  of  preponderating  states 
results  in  preparing  the  way  for  their  extension,  for  the 


Remarks  and  Corollaries  369 

extension  of  states  which  were  originally  families,  then 
tribes,  and,  later,  cities  and  nations,  and  which  have  been 
constantly  enlarged  through  the  assimilation  of  neighbours 
whom  they  have  annexed,  or  through  the  annexation  of 
neighbours  whom  they  have  assimilated. 

Another  analogy.  Just  as  the  play  of  imitation  from  top 
to  bottom  leads,  in  its  continuation,  to  so-called  democratic 
equality,  that  is  to  say,  to  the  fusion  of  all  classes  into  one, 
in  which  reciprocal  imitation  is  admirably  practised  through 
the  acceptance  of  one  another's  respective  superiorities,  so 
a  prolonged  process  of  fashion-imitation  ends  by  putting 
pupil-peoples  upon  the  same  level,  both  in  their  armaments 
and  in  their  arts  and  sciences,  with  their  master-people.  It 
creates  a  kind  of  federation  between  them  like  that  which  is 
called  in  modern  times,  for  example,  the  European  balance 
of  power.  By  this  is  meant  the  reciprocity  of  every  kind 
of  service  or  exchange  which  goes  on  incessantly  between 
the  different  great  centres  which  divide  up  European  civ- 
ilisation. In  this  way,  in  international  relations,  the  free  and 
unimpeded  domain  of  imitation  has  been  enlarged  with 
scarcely  an  interruption. 

But,  at  the  same  time,  Tradition  and  Custom,  the  con- 
servative forms  of  imitation,  have  been  fixing  and  perpet- 
uating its  new  acquisitions  and  consolidating  its  incre- 
ments in  the  heart  of  every  class  of  people  that  has  been 
raised  up  through  the  example  of  higher  classes  or  of  more 
civilised  neighbours.  At  the  same  time,  too,  every  germ 
of  imitation  which  may  have  been  secreted  in  the  brain  of 
any  imitator  in  the  form  of  a  new  belief  or  aspiration,  of 
a  new  idea  or  faculty,  has  been  steadily  developing  in  out- 
ward signs,  in  words  and  acts  which,  according  to  the  law 
of  the  march  from  within  to  without,  have  penetrated  into 
his  entire  nervous  and  muscular  systems. 

Here  then  we  have  the  laws  of  the  preceding  chapters 
in  focus  from  the  same  point  of  view.  Through  them, 
the  tendency  of  imitation,  set  free  from  generation,  to- 
wards geometric  progression,  expresses  and  fulfils  itself  more 
and  more.  Every  act  of  imitation,  therefore,  results  in 


370  Laws  of  Imitation 

the  preparation  of  conditions  that  will  make  possible  and 
that  will  facilitate  new  acts  of  imitation  of  an  increasingly 
free  and  rational  and,  at  the  same  time,  precise  and  definite 
character.  These  conditions  are  the  gradual  suppression 
of  caste,  class,  and  nationality  barriers  and,  I  may  add,  the 
lessening  of  distances  through  more  rapid  means  of  loco- 
motion, as  well  as  through  greater  density  of  population. 
This  last  condition  is  realised  in  the  degree  that  fruitful, 
that  is  to  say,  widely  imitated,  agricultural  or  industrial  in- 
ventions, and  the  equally  fruitful  discovery  of  new  lands 
promote  the  world-wide  circulation  of  the  most  inventive 
and,  at  the  same  time,  the  most  imitative  races.  Let  us 
suppose  that  all  these  conditions  are  combined  and  that 
they  are  fulfilled  in  the  highest  degree.  Then,  wherever 
a  happy  initiative  might  show  itself  in  the  whole  mass  of 
humanity,  its  transmission  by  imitation  would  be  almost 
instantaneous,  like  the  propagation  of  a  wave  in  a  perfectly 
elastic  medium.  We  are  approaching  this  strange  ideal. 
Already,  in  certain  special  phases,  where  the  most  essential 
of  the  conditions  which  I  have  indicated  happen  to  be 
combined,  social  life  reveals  the  reality  of  the  aforesaid 
tendency.  We  see  it,  for  example,  in  the  world  of  scholars, 
who,  although  they  are  widely  scattered,  are  in  constant 
touch  with  one  another  through  multiple  international  com- 
munications. We  see  it,  too,  in  the  perpetual  and  universal 
contact  of  merchants.  Haeckel  said  in  an  address  delivered 
in  1882  on  the  success  of  Darwin's  theories:  "The  prodi- 
gious influence  which  the  decisive  victory  of  the  evolutionary 
idea  exercises  over  all  the  sciences,  an  influence  which  grows 
in  geometric  progression  year  by  year,  opens  out  to  us  the 
most  consoling  perspectives."  In  fact,  the  success  of  Dar- 
win and  Spencer  has  been  amazingly  swift.  As  for  the 
rapidity  of  commercial  imitation  as  soon  as  it  is  given  free 
scope,  it  has  been  a  matter  for  observation  in  every  period, 
not  merely  in  our  own.  Read  in  Ranke  the  description  of  the 
progress  of  Antwerp  from  1550  to  1566.  During  those  six- 
teen years  the  commerce  of  that  city  with  Spain  doubled; 
with  Portugal,  Germany,  and  France  it  was  more  than 


Remarks  and  Corollaries  371 

tripled;  with  England,  it  increased  twenty- fold!  Unfortu- 
nately, war  put  an  end  to  this  prosperity.  But  in  such  inter- 
mittent flights  we  see  the  steady  force  which  pushes  on  to 
indefinite  commercial  expansion. 


It  is  now  proper  to  bring  to  light  a  general  observation, 
a  special  side  of  which  I  have  just  been  indicating  in  point- 
ing out  the  passing  of  unilateral  into  reciprocal  imitation. 
The  mere  play  of  imitation  has  resulted,  then,  not  only  in 
extending  it,  but  in  making  it  two-sided  as  well.  Now,  this 
effect  which  imitation  produces  upon  itself,  it  also  produces 
upon  many  other  connections  between  people.  Ultimately 
it  transforms  all  unilateral  into  mutual  relations. 

We  ceased  long  ago  to  believe  in  Rousseau's  "  social  con- 
tract." We  know  that  far  from  having  been  the  first  tie 
between  human  wills,  contract  was  a  bond  of  slow  formation, 
that  it  took  centuries  of  subjection  to  the  empire  of  the 
coercive  decree,  of  the  passively  obeyed  command,  to  sug- 
gest the  idea  of  the  reciprocal  decree,  as  it  were,  of  the  com- 
plex bond  by  which  two  wills  are  linked  together  in  alternate 
command  and  obedience.  Nevertheless,  many  people  still  be- 
lieve, although  the  error  is  quite  similar,  that  exchange 
was  the  first  step  taken  by  mankind.  This  was  not 
so  at  all.  Before  the  idea  of  exchanging  came  that 
of  present  making  or  that  of  thieving,  much  simpler  rela- 
tions.1 Perhaps  you  also  believe  that  at  the  very  outset  men 
talked,  discussed,  and  interchanged  ideas  with  one  another 
like  the  shepherds  of  an  eclogue?  Now,  this  exchange  did 
not  occur  in  primitive  times  any  more  than  did  that  of  men's 
products.  Discussion  presupposes  the  concession  on  both 

1  On  this  subject  see  Spencer's  Sociology,  Vol.  III.,  where  he 
tells  how  gifts,  which  are  at  first  voluntary  and  one-sided  (either  from 
the  superior  to  the  inferior,  or  inversely),  become,  little  by  little,  habit- 
ual, obligatory,  and  reciprocal.  But  Spencer  forgets  to  tell  of  the  leading 
part  played  by  imitation  in  all  of  this. 


372  Laws  of  Imitation 

sides  of  the  right  of  mutual  enlightenment;  but  before  that 
it  presupposes  the  possession  of  truth,  that  is  to  say,  of  an 
individual  perception  or  opinion  which  attributes  to  itself 
the  rightful  power  of  being  recognised  by  all  normal  minds. 
Would  the  idea  of  this  kind  of  power  be  possible  without  the 
preliminary  experience  of  such  power  as  exercised  by  a 
father,  priest,  or  teacher?  Is  it  not  dogma  that  has  alone 
made  possible  the  conception  of  truth?  In  the  same  way, 
if  some  reader  of  idyls  were  inclined  to  think  that  primitive 
men,  even  the  gentlest  savages,  were  familiar  with  courtesy 
and  mutual  consideration,  he  should  be  shown  the  proofs 
that  urbanity  in  France  and  everywhere  else,  born  as  it  was 
'of  the  non-reciprocal  homages  and  compliments  paid  to 
chiefs,  over-lords,  and  kings,  is  the  gradual  vulgarising,  as 
history  clearly  shows,  of  this  one-sided  flattery  as  it  becomes 
a  mutual  thing  in  its  expansion.  Alas!  We  cannot  even 
believe  that  war,  if  by  that  word  we  mean  the  exchange  of 
blows  inflicted  by  weapons,  which  are  more  or  less  alike, 
was  the  first  international  relation  between  human  groups. 
The  chase,  that  is  to  say,  the  destruction  or  expulsion  of 
some  defenceless  being,  of  a  peaceful  tribe  by  a  brigand 
horde,  preceded  anything  worthy  of  the  name  of  war.1 

Now,  how  did  the  human  chase  come  to  make  way  for 
human  warfare?  How  did  flattery  come  to  make  way  for 
courtesy,  credulity  for  free  enquiry,  dogmatism  for  mutual 
instruction  ?  Docility  for  voluntary  agreement  and  absolut- 
ism for  self-government  ?  Privilege  for  equality  before  the 
law,  present-making  or  theft  for  exchange,2  slavery  for  in- 

1 1  refer  to  human  relations ;  for  in  the  relations  of  primitive  man  to 
animals — relations  which  have  no  direct  bearing  upon  sociology — the 
opposite  seems  to  have  occurred;  since,  as  we  have  seen  already,  man 
fought  with  savage  beasts  before  he  had  the  means  to  hunt  them. 

*  In  the  beginning  the  administration  of  the  sacrament  was  gratu- 
itous; it  was  an  out-and-out  gift.  (On  this  subject  see  Paul  Viollet, 
Histoire  du  droit  frangais,  p.  385).  "  Little  by  little,  communities  came 
to  respond  to  these  gifts  with  others,  with  presents  that  were  sponta- 
neous, and  not  in  the  least  obligatory,  until,  finally,  these  offerings 
came  to  be  dues.  Fire-insurance  companies  are  societies  for  mutual  aid. 
They  date  back  to  1786  under  this  reciprocal  form.  But  they  were  pre- 
ceded by  non-mutual  benefit  societies,  by  systematic  almsgiving  for  the 


Remarks  and  Corollaries  373 

dustrial  co-operation  ?  And,  finally,  primitive  marriage,  the 
one-sided  appropriation  of  the  wife  by  the  husband,  for  mar- 
riage as  we  know  it,  the  appropriation  of  the  wife  by  the 
husband  and  of  the  husband  by  the  wife?  I  answer :  through 
the  slow  and  inevitable  effect  of  imitation,  of  imitation  under 
all  its  forms.  It  will  be  easy  to  quickly  prove  this.  I  need 
do  nothing  more  than  indicate  the  transitory  phases  that 
have  been  traversed  in  the  course  of  the  above  transforma- 
tions. 

In  the  beginning,  one  man  always  monopolises  the  power 
and  the  right  to  teach;  no  one  disputes  it  to  him.  Every- 
thing that  he  says  must  be  believed  by  all,  and  he  alone  has 
the  right  to  deliver  oracles.  But  at  last  the  desire  arises 
among  those  who  have  drunk  in  with  the  greatest  credulity 
the  words  of  their  master,  to  be  infallible  like  him,  to  re- 
semble him  in  that  particular  as  well.  Hence  those  efforts 
of  genius  on  the  part  of  philosophers  which  will  end  one  day 
by  bringing  about  the  recognition  of  every  individual's  right 
to  spread  his  own  particular  faith  and  to  evangelise  even  his 
pristine  masters.  But  before  this  they  must  limit  themselves 
to  more  humble  pretensions ;  and  imitation  of  the  theologians 
is  so  thoroughly  the  spirit  of  their  dissimulated  revolt  that 
they  feel  happy  if,  while  they  submit  without  discussion  to 
dogma,  although  to  dogma  which  is  for  the  first  time 
hemmed  into  a  particularly  assigned  sphere,  they  succeed  in 
dogmatising  in  their  own  little  domain  by  imposing  upon 
scholars  and  scientists  certain  capital  ideas  which  are  laid 
down  as  incontrovertible,  the  theories  of  Aristotle  or  Plato, 
for  example,  in  as  much  as  they  are  not  contrary  to  religious 
faith.  On  the  other  hand,  at  the  same  period  of  transition, 
scientists  who  also  bow  down  to  a  certain  extent  under  the 
metaphysical  yoke,  know  how  to  dogmatise  in  their  turn. 
It  is  a  series  of  dogmatic  rebounds  which  make  evident  the 
need  of  imitation  from  which  this  singular  stage  of  thought 


benefit  of  sufferers  from  fire  (see  Babeau,  La  Ville  sous  I'ancien  regime, 
II,  146).  The  right  of  divorce  began  by  being  one-sided,  to  the 
exclusive  advantage  of  the  husband,  before  it  became  reciprocal,  etc. 


374  Laws  of  Imitation 

proceeds.  It  is  nevertheless  true  that  the  emancipation  of 
human  reason  comes  from  the  same  source.  In  fact,  there 
is  something  contradictory  and  artificial  in  the  attitude  of 
the  mind  which  already  feels  its  own  power,  but  which,  be- 
lieving in  its  right  to  impose  its  convictions  without  discus- 
sion upon  others,  nevertheless  believes  that  it  is  its  duty  to 
accept  without  examination  the  convictions  of  others.  So 
much  timidity  is  inconsistent  with  so  much  pride.  And  so 
the  time  comes  when  a  bolder  and  more  logical  mind  con- 
ceives the  desire  of  dogmatising  without  restriction,  of 
asserting  and  imposing  its  convictions  both  above  and 
below.  Its  example  is  at  once  followed,  and  discussion  be- 
comes general.  Free  thought  is  nothing  else  but  the  mutual 
conflict  and  mutual  restraint  of  many  such  self-asserting, 
contradictory  individual  infallibilities. 

Originally,  one  man  commands  and  the  others  obey. 
Authority,  like  instruction,  is  monopolised  by  the  father  or 
the  teacher.  The  rest  of  the  group  has  no  other  function 
but  to  obey.  But  this  autocratic  authority  becomes  an  object 
of  envy.  The  ambitious  among  those  that  are  ruled  over 
conceive  the  idea  of  reconciling  their  subjection  with  their 
craving  for  power.  At  first  they  dream  of  limiting,  of  cir- 
cumscribing the  authority  exerted  over  them  by  their  rulers, 
then  of  diverting  it,  still  in  a  limited  and  definite  form,  to  the 
subjects  next  in  rank.  We  have  here  a  hierarchy  of  limited 
but  indisputable  commanding  powers.  The  feudal  system 
was  the  realisation  of  this  idea  on  the  greatest  scale.  But, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  military  organisation  of  any  period 
is  its  most  obvious  incarnation,  and  this  example  shows  us 
that  the  conception  in  question,  just  as  the  preceding  and 
analogous  conception,  that  of  the  hierarchy  of  dogmatic 
systems,  answers  to  a  permanent  need  in  societies,  their  need 
of  patriotic  defence  or  of  educating  their  children. 
Later  on,  however,  men  dare  more,  they  wish  to  be  able  to 
command  in  certain  respects  those  whom  in  other  respects 
they  obey  and  vice  versa,  or  to  be  able  to  command  for  a 
time  those  who  have  been  or  who  will  be  obeyed  at  another 
time.  This  reciprocity  is  obtained  by  recruiting  the  men  in 


Remarks  and  Corollaries  375 

the  public  service  from  all  classes,  by  rotation  in  office,  and 
by  the  right  of  universal  suffrage.  The  mere  fact  of  voting 
implies  on  the  part  of  the  voter  a  pledge  to  submit  to  whom- 
soever may  be  elected  and  in  this  way  imparts  to  the  decrees 
of  the  latter  a  character  of  tacit  contract.  Can  the  popular 
sovereignty  which  is  formed  in  this  way  be  said  to  be  any- 
thing else  but  kingly  sovereignty  multiplied  into  millions  of 
examples?  Without  the  example  of  the  latter,  as  it  is 
notably  embodied  in  Louis  XIV,  would  the  former  have  ever 
been  conceived  ? 

All  social  changes  or  advances  which  have  been  effected 
by  the  substitution  of  the  reciprocal  for  the  unilateral  rela- 
tion, and  which  I  deem  consequences  of  the  action  of  imita- 
tion, are  attributed  by  Spencer  to  the  replacement  of 
"  militancy  "  by  "  industrialism."  But  the  development  of 
industry  itself  is  subject  to  the  law  in  question.  In  fact,  the 
first  germ  of  industry  is  unpaid  slave  labour  or  the  labour 
of  woman,  the  born  slave  of  primitive  man.  The  Arab,  for 
example,  is  waited  on,  nourished,  dressed,  and  even  lodged 
by  his  numerous  wives,  just  as  the  Roman  was  by  his  slaves. 
For  this  reason  polygny  is  as  necessary  to  him  as  our 
numerous  tradesmen  to  us.  The  relations  between  producer 
and  consumer  begin,  then,  like  those  between  father  and  son 
or  between  husband  and  wife,  by  being  abusive.  But  by 
dint  of  working  gratis  for  others,  the  slave  aspires  to  make 
someone  work  gratis  for  himself,  and,  thanks  to  a  gradual 
restriction  in  the  power  of  his  masters  in  no  longer  control- 
ling all  his  acts  or  all  his  time,  he  ends  by  accumulating 
savings  which  first  enable  him  to  buy  his  freedom  and  then 
to  purchase  one  or  more  slaves,  his  victims  in  turn.  Had  he 
dreamed  only  of  freedom,  he  would  have  hastened  to  enjoy 
it  in  isolation,  providing  for  his  own  wants  himself.  But,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  he  copies  the  wants  of  his  ancient  masters; 
in  the  satisfaction  of  these  wants,  he  wishes  to  be  served,  like 
them,  by  others;  and  as  this  condition  becomes  more  and 
more  general,  the  times  comes  when  all  these  ancient  emanci- 
pated slaves,  all  of  whom  pretend  to  have  slaves,  alternately 
or  mutually  serve  one  another.  Hence  division  of  labour 


376  Laws  of  Imitation 

and  industrial  co-operation.1  Of  course,  let  it  be  said  once 
for  all,  the  desire  of  imitation  would  not  have  succeeded  in 
effecting  either  the  aforesaid  transformations  or  those  I  am 
about  to  mention  had  not  certain  inventions  or  discoveries 
made  them  possible.  The  invention  of  the  water-mill,  for 
example,  in  lightening  slave  labour  to  a  considerable  degree, 
prepared  the  way  for  the  slave's  emancipation;  and,  in 
general,  if  a  sufficient  number  of  machines  had  not  been  suc- 
cessively invented,  we  might  still  have  slaves  in  our  midst. 
Scientific  discoveries,  notably  astronomical  ones,  have  alone 
given  the  opportunity  to  individual  reason  to  fight  advan- 
tageously against  dogmatic  authority.  Juristic  discoveries 
or  inventions,  the  dictation  of  new  legal  formulas  by  writers 
or  publicists,  have  alone  permitted  national  sovereignty  to 
manifold  and  thereby  replace  the  sovereignty  of  royalty.  But 
it  is  nevertheless  true  that  the  desire  to  imitate  the  superior, 
to  be,  like  him,  believed  in,  obeyed,  and  waited  upon,  was  an 
immense,  although  latent,  force  which  urged  on  the  trans- 
formations I  have  mentioned;  and  it  needed  only  the  neces- 
sary accident  of  these  inventions  or  discoveries  to  be  devel- 
oped. 

JThe  more  mutual  services  of  all  kinds  become,  in  the  course  of 
industrial  and  commercial  progress,  the  more  arbitrary  and  capricious 
is  the  character  assumed  by  the  wants  which  are  thereby  satisfied. 
The  consumer,  who  is  also  a  producer,  determines  more  and  more  how 
he  is  to  be  served,  and  when  he  is  to  be  served.  He  determines  to  make, 
everything  cater  to  his  momentary  desires,  no  matter  how  fleeting  and 
extravagant  they  may  be.  This  is  called,  in  high-flown  language,  the 
emancipation  of  the  individual.  Now,  this  may  be  readily  explained 
through  the  laws  of  imitation.  In  the  beginning,  capriciousness  is  the 
monopoly  of  the  master,  the  pater  familias  or  king,  who  has  himself 
waited  upon  by  his  children,  his  slaves,  or  his  subjects  without 
reciprocity.  It  is  also  the  monopoly  of  the  god  whom  prostrate  adorers 
serve,  without  the  right  of  demanding  any  equivalent  from  him  for  the 
sacrifices  made  at  his  feet.  Therefore,  if  reciprocity  of  services  has  only 
been  brought  about,  in  the  long  run,  by  a  prolonged  and  free-spread 
imitation  of  the  one-sided  service  by  which  heads  of  families,  kings, 
and  the  nobility  modelled  upon  them,  gods  and  demi-gods  are  benefited, 
it  is  natural  for  consumers,  in  seeking  to  ape  the  rulers  of  a  past  time, 
in  their  character  of  consumers  at  least,  to  affect  to  give  to  their  needs  an 
air  of  somewhat  royal  and  divine  caprice.  In  this  way  our  growing 
democratic  independence  and  self-sufficiency  has  come  in  a  straight  line 
from  theocratic  and  monarchical  absolutism. 


Remarks  and  Corollaries  377 

Let  us  continue.  The  chase  of  man  is,  as  I  have  said,  the 
first  international  relation.  A  tribe,  a  folk,  thanks  to  the 
discovery  of  some  new  weapon  or  of  some  new  improvement 
of  which  it  has  the  secret,  exterminates  or  subjugates  all  its 
neighbours.  Such  undoubtedly  were  the  rapid  conquests  of 
the  ancient  metal-possessing  Aryans  over  the  smooth-  or 
rough-stone  peoples;  such  were  the  American  "  settlements  " 
of  Europeans  among  the  ill-fated  Indians,  a  people  without 
horses  or  game-supplying  guns.  Now,  how  was  true  war- 
fare, a  two-sided  chase,  according  to  the  usage  of  civilised 
nations,  substituted  for  this  one-sided  warfare,  so  to  speak? 
Through  the  imitative  spread  among  all  these  peoples  of  the 
weapons  and  tactics  which  had  led  to  the  triumph  of  one  of 
their  number.  But  they  dream  of  imitating  this  conqueror 
still  further,  they  seek  to  obtain  a  military  monopoly  like 
him,  to  discover  some  overpowering  weapon  which  will 
make  them  invincible  and  will  again  reduce  war  to  a  chase. 
Fortunately,  this  dream  has  never  been  fulfilled  except  in  a 
slight  degree,  although  the  Prussians  with  their  needle-rifles 
did  in  fact  treat  the  Austrians  at  Sadowa  as  a  sportsman 
does  a  rabbit.  As  an  intermediate  stage  between  these  two 
terms  of  evolution,  I  may  mention  certain  barbarous  epochs 
in  which  a  people  which  has  been  completely  overthrown 
and  made  tributary  consoles  itself  for  its  defeat  by  crushing 
without  a  motive  one  of  its  more  feeble  neighbours  and 
making  it  in  turn  pay  tribute.  In  Gaul,  in  Csesar's  time,  cer- 
tain peoples  were  clients  of  others,  an  international  arrange- 
ment which  could  be  defined  as  the  feudal  system  applied  to 
inter-state  relations. 

I  have  kept  to  the  last  an  example  which,  although  it  is 
the  least  important,  is  the  best  fitted  to  illustrate  the  truth 
of  my  ideas.  In  a  democratic  society,  a  society  which  has 
always  been  preceded  by  aristocratic,  monarchical,  or  theo- 
cratic rule,  we  may  see  the  people  in  the  street  bow  to  one 
another,  address  one  another  with  mutual  politeness,  and 
shake  hands  with  one  another.  Whence  come  these  usages  ? 
I  leave  to  Spencer  the  task  of  pointing  out  in  a  masterly  way 
the  royal  or  religious  source  of  all  this  and  of  showing  how; 


378  Laws  of  Imitation 

the  prostration  of  the  whole  body  became  slowly  transformed 
into  a  slight  inclination  of  the  figure  or  uncovering  of  the 
head.  Let  me  add  that  if  removing  the  hat  is  but  the  much 
modified  survival  of  the  primitive  obeisance,  it  is  also  the 
mutualised  form  of  the  latter.  I  may  say  as  much  of  the 
homage  or  flattery  of  the  court  whose  crude  incense,  burned 
on  the  altar  of  the  mighty,  suffocates  us  when  a  puff  of  it 
reaches  us  over  the  distance  of  a  century  or  two  in  the  dedi- 
cation of  some  old  book.  The  compliments  which  well-bred 
people  pay  each  other  to-day  are  far  from  being  so  exag- 
gerated, but  they  have  the  advantage  of  being  reciprocal. 
So,  too,  are  those  visits  which  were  formerly,  in  their  char- 
acter of  homage,  unilateral.  Politeness  is  merely  reciprocity 
of  flattery.  Moreover,  we  know  beyond  a  doubt  that  the 
desire  of  the  petty  potentate  for  ambassadors,  of  the  marquis 
for  pages,  of  the  courtier  for  a  court,  that  the  general  need 
of  being  flattered,  waited  on,  and  saluted  like  a  nobleman, 
was  the  secret  factor  which  little  by  little,  in  France  and 
elsewhere,  made  every  man  polite.  It  began  with  the  court, 
then  reached  the  city,  then  the  chateaux,  and  then  all  classes 
to  the  very  lowest.  The  urbanity  which  characterised  the 
ancient  regime  from  the  time  of  Louis  XIV  was  the  inter- 
mediate state,  analogous  to  the  transitory  phases  that  were 
referred  to  above.  Each  of  the  innumerable  ranks  into 
which  the  society  of  that  period  was  broken  up  forced  the 
rank  below  it  to  pay  it  gratuitious  courtesies,  visits  and  obei- 
sances, which  it  did  not  return.1  It  was  a  hierarchy  of 
impertinences,  as  La  Bruyere  observes  somewhere.  But  as 

1  Or,  in  case  the  superior  did  make  obeisances,  and  pays  visits  and 
compliments,  it  was  always  the  inferior  who  began  the  saluting,  the  visit- 
ing, and  the  complimenting.  At  that  time  there  was  an  obligatory 
salutation  of  class  by  class — as  of  rank  by  rank;  to-day,  we  know  only 
the  salutation  of  man  by  man,  and  it  is  arranged  in  such  away  that 
the  same  man  is  not  always  the  first  to  bow.  We  find  a  description  in 
La  Bruyere  of  the  transition  of  the  unilateral  to  the  reciprocal  cour- 
tesy. His  Menippe,  when  people  bow  to  him  "  is  embarrassed  to  know 
whether  or  not  he  should  return  it,  and,  while  he  is  deliberating,  you 
have  already  passed  him  by."  This  trait  is  truly  obsolete.  Do  we  ever 
see  anyone,  in  these  days,  no  matter  how  high  his  position,  hesitating  to 
return  the  greeting  of  the  humblest  of  his  fellow  citizens? 


Remarks  and  Corollaries  379 

we  near  the  close  of  this  vanished  world,  we  perceive  that 
courtesies  are  becoming  mutual  and  that  "  equality "  is 
approaching.  In  fact,  of  all  the  levelling  methods  that  have 
been  invented  in  the  course  of  civilisation  perhaps  none  is  as 
powerful  and  as  inconspicuous  as  that  of  politeness  in  man- 
ners and  customs.  What  Cicero  said  of  friendship,  amicitia 
pares  aut  facit  aut  invenit,  applies  perfectly  to  urbanity  and 
especially  to  the  life  of  polite  society.  The  drawing  room 
admits  equals  only  or  equalises  those  whom  it  admits. 
Through  this  latter  feature,  it  constantly  tends  to  diminish, 
even  outside  of  itself,  those  social  inequalities  which  within 
it  are  immediately  effaced.  When  hierarchical  functionaries 
of  very  unequal  rank  meet  very  frequently  in  society,  their 
relations  show  the  effects  of  it  even  during  the  interval 
between  their  social  meetings.  Polite  manners  are  even 
superior  to  railroads  in  overcoming  distances,  not  only 
between  civil  or  military  functionaries,  but  also  between 
classes  which  eventually  draw  nearer  to  one  another  by  virtue 
of  bowing  to  or  shaking  hands  with  one  another.  In  our 
changing  society  thousands  of  people  are  daily  flattered 
by  hearing  themselves  addressed  as  sir  or  madam.  In  this, 
as  in  so  many  other  respects,  in  its  countenance  of  the  rules 
of  fashion,  in  its  devotion  to  the  philosophic  ideas  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  the  nobility  of  the  old  regime  helped  to 
undermine  its  own  foundations  and  "  buried  itself  in  its 
triumph." 

II 

The  preceding  considerations  upon  the  transition  of  the 
unilateral  to  the  reciprocal  lead  us  quite  naturally  to  treat 
of  a  question  of  greater  interest  and  of  one  which  should 
have  been  handled  by  sociologists,  I  mean  the  problem  of 
what  is  reversible  and  what  irreversible  in  history.1  Every- 

1 1  do  not  use  the  words  reversible  and  irreversible  in  the  same  sense 
which  they  have  in  legal  phraseology  and  in  the  dictionary,  but  in  the 
construction  which  is  given  to  them  by  physicists,  especially  in  thermo- 
dynamics, where  a  mechanism  is  called  reversible  which  can  act  indiffer- 
ently in  either  of  two  opposite  directions'. 


380  Laws  of  Imitation 

body  feels  that  in  certain  respects  a  society  can  pass  in  a 
precisely  opposite  direction  through  certain  phases  that  it 
has  already  traversed,  but  that  in  other  respects  it  is  cut  off 
from  any  such  regression.  We  have  seen  above  that  after 
having  passed  from  custom  to  fashion,  communities  can  go 
back  from  fashion  to  custom — to  custom  that  has  broad- 
ened, out,  to  be  sure,  never  to  that  which  has  been  narrowed 
in; — but  can  they,  after  they  have  substituted  reciprocal  for 
unilateral  relations,  retrograde  from  the  former  to  the 
latter?  They  cannot,  and  for  a  reason  that  I  have  already 
implied.  "  Monopolies,"  Cournot  very  justly  remarks, 
"  great  trading  or  fighting  corporations,  the  slave  trade, 
negro  slavery,  and  all  the  colonial  institutions  which  go  with 
it,  are  things  for  which  the  world  has  no  further  wish,  which 
have  disappeared  or  which  are  about  to  disappear,  without 
our  being  able  to  think  that  they  will  ever  return  any  more 
than  the  slavery  or  the  forum  of  antiquity  or  than  mediseval 
feudalism."  This  is  true,  but  upon  what  is  this  conviction 
based  ?  The  reason  should  be  stated,  and  yet  Cournot  does 
not  state  it.  We  have  learned  that  this  necessary  and  irre- 
versible transition  from  monopoly  to  commercial  freedom, 
from  slavery  to  exchange  of  services,  etc.,  is  a  corollary  of 
the  laws  of  imitation.  Now,  these  laws  may  cease  to  act, 
either  in  part  or  in  whole,  and,  in  this  case,  a  society  perishes 
partially  or  completely;  but  the  laws  cannot  be  reversed. 

Again,  is  it  conceivable  for  a  great  empire,  like  the  Roman 
Empire  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  to  turn  about  and  become  first 
an  Italian  republic  Hellenised  by  a  Scipio,  then  an  unculti- 
vated and  fanatical  republic  governed  by  a  Cato,  then  a  little 
barbarous  village  organised  by  a  Numa?  Or  can  it  even 
be  conceived  that  after  having  passed  from  a  violent  to  an 
astute  and  voluptuous  state  of  criminality,  as  is  always  the 
case,  and  from  crimes  to  vices,  a  society  ceases  to  be  vicious 
to  again  become  austere  and  sanguinary?  We  could  as  well 
conceive  of  an  adult  organism  retrograding  from  maturity  to 
youth,  from  youth  to  infancy,  and  ending  by  returning  to  the 
ovum  from  which  it  issued,  or  of  a  burnt-out  star,  like  the 
moon,  setting  itself  to  retraversing  the  exhausted  series  of 


Remarks  and  Corollaries  381 

its  ancient  geological  periods  or  of  its  vanished  faunas  and 
floras.  Dissolution  is  never,  in  spite  of  Spencer's  opinion  to 
the  contrary,  the  symmetrical  pendant  of  evolution.  Does 
that  mean  that  the  world  has  really  one  direction  and  one 
goal,  or,  rather,  that  all  reality,  in  its  constant  discontent, 
with  its  destiny  and  in  its  preference  for  the  unknown  or 
even  for  annihilation  as  against  its  own  past,  refuses  pri- 
marily to  relive  its  life,  to  retrace  its  path  ? 

I  hasten  to  add  that,  on  one  of  its  important  sides,  histor- 
ical reversibility  or  irreversibility  cannot  be  explained  by  the 
laws  of  imitation  alone.  Successive  inventions  and  discov- 
eries, which  imitation  lays  hold  of  in  order  to  spread  them 
abroad,  do  not  follow  one  another  accidentally.  A  rational 
tie  which  we  do  not  need  to  dwell  upon  here,  but  which  has 
been  clearly  pointed  out  by  Auguste  Comte  in  his  concep- 
tion of  the  development  of  the  sciences  and  which  has 
been  definitely  traced  out  by  Cournot,  in  his  masterly  treatise 
upon  L '  Enchainement  des  idees  fondamentales,  binds  them 
to  one  another ;  and  we  cannot  but  admit  that  to  a  large  ex- 
tent their  order,  the  order,  for  example,  of  mathematical  dis- 
coveries from  Pythagoras  to  us,  might  have  been  inverted. 
Here,  irreversibility  is  based  upon  the  laws  of  inventive 
logic,  and  not  upon  those  of  imitation. 

Let  us  stop  for  a  moment  to  justify,  in  passing,  the  dis- 
tinction that  I  have  just  drawn.  yThe  order  of  successive 
inventions  is  distinct  from  the  order  of  successive  imitations, 
although  imitation  does  mean  imitation  of  invention.  The 
laws,  in  fact,  which  govern  the  first  of  these  two  series  should 
not  be  confused  with  those,  even  the  logical  ones,  which 
govern  the  second.  It  is  not  necessary  for  all  imitations 
of  inventions  to  pass  through  the  terms  of  the  irreversible 
series  which  inventions,  whether  they  be  imitated  or  not, 
must  necessarily  traverse  one  by  one.  We  could,  if  put  to 
it,  conceive  of  a  succession  of  inventions,  which  were  logic- 
ally antecedent  to  the  final  consummate  one,  unfolding  in 
one  and  the  same  master  mind;  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it 
is  seldom  that  an  inventor  does  not  climb  up  several  obscure 
rungs  in  such  a  ladder  before  reaching  the  illustrious  step. 


382  Laws  of  Imitation 

The  laws  of  invention  belong  essentially  to  individual  logic; 
the  laws  of  imitation  belong  in  part  to  social  logic.  More- 
over, just  as  imitation  does  not  fall  exclusively  within  social 
logic,  but  depends  upon  extra-logical  influence  as  well,  is 
it  not  obvious  that  invention  itself  is  produced  mentally, 
through  conditions  which  are  not  alone  the  apparition  of 
premises  in  the  mind  of  which  it  is  the  logical  conclusion,  but 
which  are  also  other  associations  of  ideas,  called  inspiration, 
intuition,  genius? 

Meanwhile,  let  us  not  forget  that  every  invention  and 
every  discovery  consists  in  the  interference  in  somebody's 
mind  of  certain  old  pieces  of  information  that  have  generally 
been  handed  down  by  others.  What  did  Darwin's  thesis  about 
natural  selection  amount  to?  To  having  proclaimed  the 
fact  of  competition  among  living  things  ?  No,  but  in  having 
for  the  first  time  combined  this  idea  with  the  ideas  of  vari- 
ability and  heredity.1  The  former  idea,  as  it  was  proclaimed 
by  Aristotle,  remained  sterile  until  it  was  associated  with  the 
two  latter  ideas.  From  that  as  a  starting  point,  we  may  say 
that  the  generic  term,  of  which  invention  is  but  a  species, 
is  the  fruitful  interference  of  repetitions.  If  this  be  true,  I 
may  perhaps  be  allowed  to  set  forth,  without  emphasis,  an 
hypothesis  which  occurs  to  me  at  this  point.  However 
numerous  may  be  the  different  kinds  of  things  which  are 
repeated,  if  we  suppose  that  the  centres  of  these  repetitive 
radiations,  otherwise  known  as  inventions  or  the  biological 
or  physical  analogues  of  inventions,  be  regularly  placed, 
their  interferences  may  be  foreseen;  and  these  interferences 
or  new  centres  will  themselves  present  as  much  regularity 
in  their  disposition  as  did  the  primary  centres.  In  such  a 
universe,  everything,  however  complex  it  might  be,  would 
be  regular;  nothing  would  either  be  or  seem  accidental.  If, 
on  the  contrary,  we  assume  that  the  primitive  centres  are 
irregular  in  position,  the  position  of  the  secondary  centres 
will  also  be  unordered  and  their  irregularity  will  equal  that 
of  the  primary  centres.  Thus,  there  will  never  be  in  the  world 

*  See  Giard's  article  in  the  Revue  scientifique,  December  i,  1888. 


Remarks  and  Corollaries  383 

anything  but  the  same  quantity  of  irregularity,  so  to  speak, 
only  it  will  appear  under  the  most  changing  forms.  Let  me 
add  that,  in  spite  of  all,  these  changing  forms  must  have  a 
certain  indefinable  likeness.  The  original  irregularity  is 
reflected  in  its  enlarged  copies,  the  derived  irregularities. 
From  this  I  conclude  that,  although  the  idea  of  Repetition 
dominates  the  whole  universe,  it  does  not  constitute  it.  For 
the  bottom  of  it,  I  think,  is  a  certain  sum  of  innate,  eternal, 
and  indestructible  diversity  without  which  the  world  would 
be  as  monotonous  as  it  is  vast.  Stuart  Mill  was  led  by  his 
reflections  to  a  similar  postulate. 

Whatever  may  be  said  of  the  conjecture  which  I  have 
just  hazarded,  I  am  sure  that  there  must  be  a  combination 
of  the  two  kinds  of  laws  which  I  have  pointed  out  to  entirely 
explain  the  irreversible  character  of  even  the  simplest  social 
transformations.  Let  us  take,  for  example,  the  changes  in 
dress  in  France  during  the  last  three  centuries  and  let  us 
suppose  them  to  have  occurred  in  an  inverse  order.  The 
hypothesis  seems  acceptable,  a  priori;  at  least  it  seems  to 
involve  no  greater  contradiction  than  the  idea  of  playing  a 
melody  backwards,  beginning  with  the  last  note  and  ending 
with  the  first.  Parenthetically,  it  is  a  strange  thing  that  in  this 
way  an  entirely  new  melody  is  produced  which,  without  hav- 
ing anything  in  common  with  the  original  one,  is  sometimes 
satisfactory  to  one's  ear.  But  imagine  the  courtiers  of  Louis 
XIV  dressed  in  the  black  coat  and  waistcoat,  in  the  trousers 
and  silk  hat  of  our  present  fashions.  Imagine  the  trousers 
gradually  replaced  by  knickerbockers,  the  short  hair  by  wigs, 
the  coats  by  embroidered,  gilded,  and  many-coloured  suits 
with  side-swords,  and  our  democratic  contemporaries  decked 
out  like  the  followers  of  the  Sun-King!  It  would  be  gro- 
tesque. There  would  be  such  an  inconsistency  between  a 
man's  exterior  and  his  ideas,  between  the  succession  of  cos- 
tumes and  that  of  events,  opinions,  and  customs,  that  it  is 
useless  to  dwell  upon  the  impossibility  of  the  thing.  It  is 
impossible,  because  the  events,  the  opinions  and  the  customs 
of  which  the  clothes  should  be,  up  to  a  certain  point,  the 
expression,  are  linked  together  from  the  time  of  Louis  XIV 


384  Laws  of  Imitation 

by  a  certain  logic  whose  laws,  as  well  as  the  laws  of  imita- 
tion, are  opposed  to  the  reversing  of  their  melody,  so  to  speak. 
This  is  so  true  that  our  hypothetical  inversion  would  be  in- 
finitely less  absurd  if  it  were  a  question  of  women's  clothes. 
We  could,  at  a  pinch,  without  making  any  other  change  in 
modern  history,  imagine  the  court  ladies  of  the  seventeenth 
century  wearing  the  dresses  and  even  the  hats  of  the  fashion- 
able ladies  of  the  nineteenth  century.  We  could  imagine 
that  they  were  followed  by  the  crinoline  and  then  by  the  high 
Greek  bodice  of  Mme.  Recamier  and  Mme.  Tallien,  and 
that  these  metamorphoses  led  our  contemporaries  to  dress 
like  Mme.  de  Maintenon  or  to  arrange  their  hair  like  Mile. 
de  Fontange.  It  would  be  a  little  strange,  but  it  would  not 
be  out  of  the  question.  And  yet  how  is  it  that  the  current  of 
women's  fashions  can  be  conceived  of  as  turned  back,  with- 
out its  being  necessary  to  think  of  the  current  of  customs 
and  ideas  as  reversed  also,  whereas  this  is  not  true  of  men's 
fashions?  This  can  undoubtedly  be  explained  because  of 
women's  infinitely  smaller  participation  in  political  and  intel- 
lectual work;  because  of  their  dominant  interest  at  all  times 
and  places  in  being  physically  pleasing,  and  because  of  the 
fundamental  immutability  of  their  nature  which,  in  spite  of 
their  love  of  change,  rebels  against  the  wear  of  civilisation. 
But  let  us  note  the  fact  that  for  women,  as  for  men,  it  is 
impossible  to  conceive  of  a  reversion  from  extreme  com- 
plexity to  primitive  simplicity  in  that  succession  of  inven- 
tions relating  to  weaving  which  has  brought  us  goods  of  a 
more  and  more  varied  and  intricate  character.  The  laws  of 
logic  forbid  it.  In  the  same  way  they  forbid  us  to  suppose 
that  the  series  of  weapons  which  has  reached  us  from  the 
Middle  Ages  might  have  been  reversed  and  that  we  might 
have  passed  from  the  needle-rifle  to  the  flint-gun,  to  arque- 
buses, to  cross-bows  and  long-bows,  or  from  Krupp  gun 
to  culverin  or  balista.  Besides,  the  laws  of  imitation  show 
us  the  impossibility  of  admitting  that  after  either  men's  or 
women's  clothes  had  been,  according  to  hypothesis,  more 
or  less  alike  in  cut  and  material  for  all  classes  and  provinces 
in  France  under  Louis  XIV,  just  as  they  are  in  our  day,  they 


Remarks  and  Corollaries  385 

could  gradually  become  differentiated  in  different  classes  and 
in  different  parishes  as  of  yore.  This  is  inadmissible,1  even 
were  we  to  suppose  at  the  same  time  that  all  our  telegraphs 
and  railroads  had  been  destroyed  after  having  existed  under 
Louis  XIV,  and  had  carried  away  with  them  the  intense 
desires  for  affiliation  and  assimilation  to  which  they  had 
given  birth.  For  such  a  violent  death  on  the  part  of  our 
civilisation  would  reduce  all  its  imitative  functions  to  inertia, 
but  it  would  not  make  them  retroactive.  A  chronicle 2  tells 
us  how  Louis  XIII  was  rilled  with  admiration,  upon  his 
entrance  into  Marseilles,  for  the  soldiers  of  the  militia,  and 
was  especially  pleased  to  see  that  "  some  of  them  were 
dressed  in  savage  style,  as  Americans,  Indians,  Turks,  and 
Moors."  It  was  only  under  Louis  XV,  in  fact,  that  a  uni- 
form became  general.  Imagine  the  effect  produced  by  a 
return  in  our  day,  if  one  could  be  made,  to  such  an  antique 
medley  of  military  garments!  Such  diversity  of  costume 
would  not  be  tolerated,  that  is,  it  would  not  seem  natural  or 
normal,  unless  it  spread  abroad  as  a  fashion;  and,  in  this 
case,  the  very  multiformity  would  be  a  kind  of  uniform,  a 
similitude  which  consisted  of  copying  the  variety  of  others. 
Let  us  turn  our  attention  to  the  kind  of  historical  irre- 
versibility  which  is  adequately  accounted  for  by  the  laws  of 
imitation,  just  as  the  laws  of  reproduction  and  of  vibration 
are  able  to  explain  some,  but  not  all,  kinds  of  irreversibility 
in  nature.  A  great  national  language  cannot  return  to  the 
little  local  dialect  from  which  it  has  sprung.  Not  that  it 
cannot  be  broken  up  by  some  political  catastrophe  into  frag- 
ments which  will  become  dialects.  But,  in  this  case,  the 
differentiation  of  dialects  will  be  due  to  the  compulsory 
imprisonment  in  each  province  of  the  linguistic  innovations 
that  have  sprung  up  in  the  place  and  that  formerly  would 
have  radiated  to  the  remotest  part  of  the  land.  Moreover, 
each  dialect  that  is  made  in  this  way  will  not  resemble  the 
primitive  dialect  in  the  least,  nor  will  it  incline  to  reproduce 

1What  becomes  here  of  the  famous  law  of  progressive  differenti- 
ation  considered  as  a  necessity  of  universal  evolution? 
2  See  Babeau,  La  Ville  sous  fancien  regime. 


386  Laws  of  Imitation 

the  latter.  It  will  tend  to  spread  over  to  its  neighbours  and 
to  its  own  good  to  re-establish  unity  of  language  over  a  vast 
area.  What  I  say  of  language  applies  also  to  religion.  But 
let  us  cast  a  glance  over  the  social  life  in  its  entirety. 

It  has  often  been  remarked  that  civilisation  has  the  effect 
of  raising  the  level  of  the  masses  from  an  intellectual  and 
moral,  from  an  aesthetic  and  economic  point  of  view,  rather 
than  of  rearing  still  higher  in  these  different  respects  the 
higher  peaks  of  society.  But  this  vague,  indefinite  formula 
has  been  not  unjustly  the  subject  of  refutation  because  of 
failure  to  point  out  the  cause  of  the  phenomenon  in  view. 
This  cause  we  know.  Since  every  invention  which  has  once 
been  launched  clear  of  the  mass  of  those  that  are  already 
established  in  the  social  environment,  must  spread  out  and 
establish  itself  in  turn  by  winning  a  place  for  itself  in  one 
class  after  another  until  it  reaches  the  very  lowest,  it  follows 
that  the  final  result  to  which  the  indefinite  continuation  of 
all  these  outspreadings  from  centres  which  appear  at  distant 
points  and  in  high  places,  must  be  a  general  and  uniform 
illumination.  It  is  in  this  way,  by  virtue  of  the  law  of  vibra- 
tory radiation,  that  the  sources  of  heat  as  they  appear  one 
after  another  tend  to  produce,  according  to  a  famous  deduc- 
tion of  physicists,  a  great  universal  equilibrium  of  tempera- 
ture which  is  higher  than  the  actual  temperature  of  inter- 
stellar space,  but  lower  than  that  of  suns.  It  is  in  this  way, 
too,  that  the  dissemination  of  species  according  to  the  law 
of  their  geometric  progression,  or,  in  other  terms,  of  their 
prolific  radiation,  tends  to  cover  the  entire  earth,  which  is 
still  very  unequally  peopled,  with  a  uniform  stratum  of  living 
beings  which  will  be  denser  throughout  its  whole  extent  than 
the  average  density  of  its  present  population.  Obviously, 
the  terms  of  our  comparisons  correspond  exactly.  The  sur- 
face of  the  earth  is  the  domain  that  is  open  to  the  radiation 
of  light,  just  as  space  is  the  domain  that  is  open  to  that  of  heat 
and  light  and  as  the  human  species,  inasmuch  as  it  is  a  living 
species,  is  the  domain  that  is  open  to  the  spread  of  inventive 
genius.  After  this  statement,  we  can  understand  how  cos- 
mopolitan and  democratic  assimilation  is  an  inevitable  tend- 


Remarks  and  Corollaries  387 

ency  of  history  for  the  same  reason  that  the  complete  and 
uniform  peopling  of  the  globe  and  the  complete  and  uniform 
calorification  of  space  are  the  objects  of  the  vital  and  of  the 
physical  universe.  It  is  so  of  necessity,  for  of  the  two 
chief  forces,  invention  and  imitation,  which  help  us  to  inter- 
pret the  whole  of  history,  the  former,  the  source  of  privi- 
leges, monopolies,  and  aristocratic  inequalities,  is  intermit- 
tent, rare,  and  eruptive  only  at  certain  infrequent  periods, 
whereas  the  latter,  which  is  so  democratic  and  levelling,  is 
continuous  and  incessant  like  the  stream  deposition  of  the 
Nile  or  Euphrates.  But  we  can  understand  also  that  it  may 
well  happen  that  at  periods  when  works  of  genius  crowd 
upon  and  stimulate  one  another,  in  feverish  and  inventive 
ages  like  ours,  the  progress  of  civilisation  is  accompanied  by 
a  momentary  increase  of  every  kind  of  inequality,  or,  if  the 
imaginative  fever  has  centred  in  one  place,  of  a  special  kind. 
In  our  day,  when  the  creative  spirit  has  turned  primarily 
towards  the  sciences,  the  distance  between  our  most  dis- 
tinguished scholars  and  the  most  uncultivated  dregs  of  our 
population  is  much  greater  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  sum 
and  substance  of  learning  than  it  was  in  the  Middle  Ages  or 
antiquity.  In  the  innovating  periods  of  which  I  speak  the 
whole  question  consists  of  knowing  whether  the  precipitate 
eruption  of  inventions  has  been  faster  than  their  current  of 
example.  Now,  this  is  a  question  of  fact  which  statistics 
alone  can  solve. 

Believing  that  the  transition  from  an  aristocratic  to  a 
democratic  order  is  irreversible,  Tocqueville  refuses  to  think 
that  any  aristocracy  can  be  formed  in  a  democratic  environ- 
ment. But  I  must  be  clear  on  this  point.1  If,  in  conse- 


1  Let  us  note  that  through  a  regular  and  uninterrupted  series  of 
transformations,  the  ecclesiastical  organisation  of  Christian  Europe 
passed  from  an  evangelical,  equality-loving  democracy  to  the  aristocracy 
of  the  early  bishops,  then  to  the  modified  monarchy  of  the  Bishop  of 
Rome,  as  it  was  limited  by  the  Councils,  and,  finally,  to  the  absolutism  of 
papal  infallibility.  This  is  the  exact  opposite  of  the  evolution  accom- 
plished by  secular  society.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  in  this  case  as  in 
that,  the  evolution  has  been  from  multiformity  to  uniformity,  from 
disintegration  to  centralisation. 


388  Laws  of  Imitation 

quence  of  the  cause  of  which  we  know,  societies  hasten 
towards  an  increasing  assimilation  and  an  incessant  accumu- 
lation of  similarities,  it  does  not  follow  that  they  are  also 
progressing  towards  a  greater  and  greater  development  of 
democracy.  For  imitative  assimilation  is  only  the  stuff  out 
of  which  societies  are  made;  this  stuff  is  cut  out  and  put  into 
use  by  social  logic,  which  tends  to  the  most  solid  kind  of 
unification  through  the  specialisation  and  co-operation  of 
aptitudes,  and  through  the  specialisation  and  mutual  con- 
firmation of  minds.  It  is  therefore  quite  possible  and  even 
probable  that  a  very  strong  hierarchy  may  be  the  destined 
goal  of  any  civilisation,1  although  every  consummate  civili- 
sation which  has  reached  its  ultimate  fruition  is  marked  by 
the  diffusion  of  the  same  wants  and  ideas,  if  not  by  the  same 
powers  and  wealth,  throughout  the  mass  of  its  citizens. 
This  much,  however,  may  be  granted  to  Tocqueville — after 
an  aristocracy  which  is  based  upon  the  hereditary  prestige 
of  birth  has  been  destroyed  in  a  country,  it  can  never  come 
to  life  again.  We  know,  in  fact,  that  the  social  form  of  Re- 
petition, imitation,  tends  to  free  itself  more  and  more  from 
its  vital  form,  from  heredity. 

We  are  also  justified  in  affirming  that  national  agglomer- 
ations will  enlarge  to  a  greater  and  greater  degree,  and  that 
they  will  consequently  become  less  dense  and  that  the  con- 
trary will  never  be  realised  unless  a  catastrophe  occur.  This 
is  a  result  (as  pointed  out  by  M.  Gide  in  his  little  work  upon 
the  colonies2)  of  universal  assimilation,  especially  in  the 
matter  of  armaments.  In  fact  "  it  is  clear  that  the  day  when 
we  shall  all  be  formed  in  the  same  mould,  the  day  when  one 
man  will  be  worth  another,  the  power  of  every  people  will 

.  i  The  Byzantine  Empire  was  the  goal  of  Greco-Roman  civilisation ; 
the  Chinese  Empire,  of  Chinese  civilisation;  the  Mogul  Empire,  of 
Hindoo  civilisation;  the  Empire  of  the  Pharaohs,  of  Egyptian  civilisa- 
tion, etc. 

2  M.  Gide  expressly  refers  to  the  '*'  laws  of  imitation,"  for  he  was  one 
of  the  first  to  accept  my  point  of  view,  and  in  his  Principes  d'economie 
politique  he  gives  a  pretty  good  place  to  my  theory  of  value,  the  applica- 
tion of  this  general  point  of  view,  as  I  presented  it  a  long  time  ago,  in 
several  articles  in  the  Revue  philosophique. 


Remarks  and  Corollaries  389 

be  mathematically  proportioned  to  the  number  of  its  popula- 
tion "  and,  consequently,  a  struggle  between  a  small  state 
and  a  big  one  will  be  impossible  or  disastrous  for  the 
former.  This  is  an  additional  argument  for  the  numerous 
reasons  which  we  have  for  foreseeing  a  colossal  empire  in 
the  future.  In  every  period  prior  to  our  own,  larger  states 
extended  themselves  as  far  or  farther  than  the  then  means 
of  communication  made  practicable.  But  at  present  it  is 
plain  that  the  great  inventions  of  our  times  will  make  pos- 
sible and  enduring  much  more  extensive  agglomerations 
than  those  which  now  exist.  This  is  an  historic  anomaly, 
unexampled  in  the  past,  and  we  must  believe  that  it  is  fated 
to  disappear.  The  world  is  more  ready  at  present  for  a 
concentration  of  the  whole  of  Europe,  northern  Africa,  and 
half  of  Asia  into  a  single  state  than  it  ever  was  for  the  Ro- 
man or  Mahometan  conquest,  or  for  the  empire  of  Charles 
V.  Does  this  mean  that  we  must  expect  to  see  a  single 
empire  extending  over  the  entire  globe?  It  does  not;  from 
the  law  which  I  developed  above  on  the  alternation  of 
fashion  and  custom,  on  the  final  and  inevitable  return  to 
a  protective  tariff  of  custom  after  a  more  or  less  lengthy 
period  of  free  trade  in  examples,  it  follows  that  the  natural, 
I  do  not  refer  to  the  factitious,  aggrandisement  of  a  state 
could  never  pass  beyond  certain  limits.  Consequently,  we 
are  not  justified  in  conceiving  the  hope  that  a  single  state 
will  rule  over  the  whole  earth  or  that  the  possibility  of  war 
will  be  suppressed.  On  the  other  hand,  as  the  unification 
or  at  least  the  federation  of  civilised  nations  becomes  more 
desirable  and  more  longed  for,  the  obstacles  in  the  way  of  its 
realisation,  patriotic  pride  and  prejudice,  national  antagon- 
isms, misunderstood  or  narrowly  interpreted  collective  in- 
terests, accumulated  historical  memories,  all  these  things  will 
not  cease  to  grow.  The  checking  of  this  growing  aspiration 
by  this  growing  difficulty  might  be  considered  the  infernal 
torment  to  which  man  is  condemned  by  civilisation.  It 
seems  as  if  the  mirage  of  perpetual  and  universal  peace 
loomed  up  before  our  eyes  with  more  and  more  brilliancy  but 
at  a  greater  and  greater  distance. 


390  Laws  of  Imitation 

In  a  limited  and  relative  sense,  however,  we  may  believe 
that  this  ideal  will  be  temporarily  realised  through  the  future 
conquests  of  a  people,  whose  name  we  do  not  know,  who  is 
destined  to  play  this  glorious  part.  But  then,  after  this 
Empire  has  been  established,  after  it  has  bestowed  upon  a 
great  part  of  the  world  a  security  comparable  to  the  majesty 
of  a  Roman  peace  increased  tenfold  in  depth  and  extent,1 

1  Historians  err  in  feeling,  or  affecting  to  feel,  an  unjustifiable 
contempt  for  all  great  social  similarities  in  language,  religion,  politics, 
art,  etc.,  which  have  been  visibly  effected  by  the  imitation  of  some  pres- 
tigious model,  whether  or  not  the  prestige  be  that  of  a  conqueror  or 
merely  of  a  stranger.  They  are  wont  to  treat  with  scorn  the  great 
agglomerations  of  peoples,  the  great  social  unities,  the  Roman  Empire, 
for  example,  which  are  made  possible  in  this  way,  and  to  declare  them 
factitious.  This  does  not  keep  them  from  highly  valuing,  over-valuing, 
in  fact,  other  similarities,  other  unities,  which  they  consider  natural  and 
spontaneous.  They  are  not  aware  that  these  are  also  caused  by  imita- 
tion, by  imitation  which  is,  in  certain  cases,  unconscious  and  unthinking, 
instead  of  conscious  and  deliberate,  but  which  is  nevertheless  imitation. 
Superstitious  reverence  for  the  unconscious,  and  ignorance  of  the 
leading  part  played  in  human  affairs  by  imitation  in  its  many  overt  or 
hidden  forms,  give  rise  in  the  best  minds  to  many  such  contradictions. 

Here  is  an  example,  which  I  borrow  from  the  very  erudite  Histoire 
des  institutions  politiques  of  M.  Viollet  (p.  256).  This  distinguished 
historian  belongs  to  the  very  large  number  of  those  who  contrast  the 
senility  of  the  Roman  Empire  with  the  fruitful  and  spirited  adolescence 
of  the  German  barbarians.  He  considers  that  the  great  imperial  unity, 
is  artificial  and,  by  contrast,  he  is  led  to  consider  that  every  little  unity 
produced  by  the  break-up  of  the  Empire  is  natural  and  spontaneous. 
The  frightful  chaos  from  the  sixth  to  the  tenth  century,  which  was 
relieved  only  by  the  period  of  Charlemagne,  the  glorious  and  conscious 
imitator  of  the  Caesars,  seems  to  him  to  be  only  a  crisis  in  racial 
development ;  its  gloom  is  "  an  aurora."  It  all  seems  admirable  to  him. 
first  the  disintegration,  and  yet  this  is  evidently  a  step  backward,  for  I 
do  not  know  how  many  centuries,  and  then,  and  this  seems  contradictory 
to  me,  the  obvious  but  futile  inclination  to  reconstruct  the  broken  unity, 
under  the  form  of  re-enlarging  nationalities.  "  The  Occident,"  he  says, 
"  as  it  was  happily  and  definitely  disintegrated,  having  no  longer  any 
uncontested  tie  but  that  of  a  community  of  religious  and  philosophic 
beliefs,  or  any  similar  institutions,  but  institutions  which  were  born 
spontaneously,  so  to  speak,  from  similar  wants,  was  about  to  present 
the  admirable  spectacle  of  a  diversity  a  thousand  times  richer,  more 
fruitful,  and  more  harmonious  than  the  best-planned  homogeneity." 
Now,  let  us  not  forget  that,  had  it  not  been  for  the  long  duration  of  the 
Empire,  for  the  age-long  propagation  of  currents  of  imitation  in 
language,  ideas,  manners,  and  institutions,  there  would  have  been  no 
similarity  of  ^vants  between  so  many  originally  heterogeneous  peoples. 
And,  as  for  community  of  religious  as  well  as  of  philosophic  beliefs, 


Remarks  and  Corollaries  391 

it  may  happen  that  an  entirely  new  social  phenomenon,  one 
neither  conforming  nor  contrary  to  the  principles  that  I 
have  propounded,  may  appear  to  our  descendants.  We  may 
wonder,  to  be  sure,  whether  universal  similarity  under  all  its 
present  or  future  forms,  in  regard  to  dress,  to  the  alphabet, 
perhaps  to  language,  to  sciences,  to  law,  etc.,  we  may  wonder 
whether  it  is  the  consummate  fruit  of  civilisation  or  whether 

this  was  clearly  due  to  those  multiple  conversions,  to  those  imitative 
contagions  between  minds  and  souls  that  the  unity  of  the  Roman  Empire 
alone  made  possible.  Thus,  that  which  the  writer  I  have  quoted  so 
much  admired  as  being  contrary  to  a  factitious  imperial  unity,  is,  in  its 
origin,  imperial.  Suppress  that,  and  nothing  remains  but  the  unre- 
stricted disintegration  which  takes  us  back  to  a  state  of  savagery. 

If  we  fully  comprehended  the  truth  of  the  observation,  that,  unless 
man  in  society  is  inventing,  a  rare  occurrence,  or  unless  he  is  following 
impulses  which  are  of  a  purely  organic  origin,  likewise  a  rarer  and  rarer 
occurrence,  he  is  always,  in  act  or  thought,  imitating,  whether  he  is 
conscious  of  it  or  not,  whether  he  yields  to  a  so-called  imitative  impulse 
or  whether  he  makes  a  rational  and  deliberate  choice  from  among  the 
models  which  are  offered  to  him  to  imitate ;  if  we  knew  this,  if  this 
were  our  starting-point,  we  would  be  cautious  of  admiring,  with  a 
childish  superstition,  the  great  currents  of  unconscious  and  thoughtless 
imitation  in  social  phenomena,  and  we  would,  on  the  other  hand, 
recognise  the  superiority  of  acts  of  voluntary  and  rational  imitation. 

We  would  also  recognise  how  invincible  and  irresistible,  in  virtue  of 
the  laws  of  imitation,  is  the  immense  impetus  of  all  things  towards 
uniformity.  I  do  not  deny  the  picturesque  side  of  the  "  rich  diversity  " 
that  the  chaotic  period  of  the  Merovingians  and  Carlovingians  was  a 
factor  in  producing  in  the  great  feudal  period.  But  in  modern  times  has 
there  not  been  a.  return  to  uniformity,  and  even  an  enlargement  of  it; 
in  short,  is  not  our  present  civilisation  by  way  of  being  cast  in  a  single,, 
unique  mould?  Nowadays,  have  we  not  to  seek  the  depths  of  some 
African  desert  or  Chinese  village  to  avoid  seeing  the  same  hats  and 
dresses,  the  same  cigars,  the  same  newspapers? 

Thus,  in  spite  of  the  political  disintegration  which  has  persisted, 
although  in  a  minor  degree,  a  social  level  has  been  reconstructed.  This 
cannot  be  imputed  to  a  political  unity,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Roman 
Empire,  as  if  it  were  its  sole  or  principal  cause.  The  Roman  conquest 
favoured  and  hastened  the  social  assimilation  of  Europe,  and  in  doing 
that  it  rendered  a  great  service  to  the  cause  of  civilisation,  since  civili- 
sation is  precisely  nothing  else  than  this  work  of  unification,  of  social 
complication,  of  mutual  and  harmonious  imitation.  But,  even  without 
the  Roman  conquest,  social  unity  would  have  been  brought  about  in 
Europe — only  it  would  have  been  accomplished  in  the  same  way  as  that 
of  Asia  or  Africa  was  accomplished ;  that  is,  less  well,  and  less  peace- 
fully. It  would  have  entailed  fearful  massacres,  and,  without  doubt, 
the  progress  of  inventions  and  discoveries  would  have  been  less  ad- 
vanced, just  as  happened  in  Asia  and  Africa. 

And  so  I  do  not  join  with  those  who  consider  that  imperial  unity 


39  2  Laws  of  Imitation 

its  sole  raiso'n  d'etre  and  its  final  consequence  are  not  the  un- 
folding of  individual  differences  that  will  be  more  valid,  more 
intense,  more  radical,  and,  at  the  same  time,  more  subtle, 
than  the  differences  that  were  annihilated.  It  is  certain  that 
after  a  cosmopolitan  inundation  has  left  a  thick  deposit  of 
ideas  and  customs  over  all  humanity,  the  demolished  nation- 
alities will  never  be  reconstructed;  men  will  never  return  to 
their  Chinese  ancestor-worship  nor  to  their  contempt  for 
foreign  usages;  they  will  never  prefer  to  accentuate  their 
fixed  idiosyncrasies  rather  than  to  hasten  general  changes 
shared  in  by  all  alike.  But  it  is  perfectly  possible  that  civili- 
sation may  pause  some  day  to  draw  back  and  give  birth 
to  new  offspring,  that  the  flood  of  imitation  may  be  banked 
in,1  and  that  through  the  very  effect  of  its  excessive  devel- 
opment, the  need  of  sociability  may  diminish  or,  rather,  may 
become  altered  and  transformed  into  a  sort  of  general 
misanthropy.  While  this  would  be  quite  compatible  with 

was  disastrous  because  of  the  very  memory  that  it  left  behind,  a 
memory  which  proved  a  source  of  delusion  for  the  Middle  Ages. 
"  This  dire  idea  of  universal  monarchy  lasted  for  more  than  a  thou- 
sand years."  Dire  in  Avhat?  Is  it  not  evident  that  the  small  degree 
of  higher  order  and  harmony  which  persisted  in  this  anarchy  of 
warring  fiefs,  the  political  dust  of  the  imperial  block,  was  due  to 
the  very  dream  and  memory  of  the  Empire,  and  that  without  the 
pope,  the  spiritual  emperor,  or  even  without  the  German  Caesar,  this 
dust  might  have  been  incapable  of  ever  regaining  life  and  organisation? 

1  Our  inclination  to  imitate  stranger  or  neighbour  does  not  increase 
in  proportion  to  the  multiplication  of  our  relations  with  him.  Of 
course  when  there  are  practically  no  relations  at  all,  there  is  no  tend- 
ency to  imitate  him,  because  there  is  no  knowledge  of  him;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  when  we  know  him  too  well  to  be  able  to  continue 
in  our  envy  or  admiration  of  him,  we  no  longer  take  him  for  our 
model.  There  is,  therefore,  a  certain  point  between  too  little  and  too 
much  communication,  where  the  highest  degree  of  the  need  of  imitat- 
ing others  may  be  formed.  How  shall  we  determine  this  p.oint?  It 
is  a  difficult  matter.  We  may  say  that  it  is  the  optical  point  where 
we  are  near  enough  to  have  all  the  illusion  of  the  scenery  without 
being  near  enough  to  be  aware  of  the  stage  machinery. 

It  is  essential  to  note  the  consequence  of  the  preceding  fact.  It 
follows  that  the  multiplied  communications  between  peoples  and  classes, 
through  railroads,  telegraphs,  and  telephones,  will  result  in  leading 
them  back  to  a  taste  for  and  a  pious  observance  of  their  distinctive 
idiosyncrasies,  and  of  their  particular  habits  and  customs.  Is  not  the 
present  return  to  the  spirit  of  nationality  due  in  part,  in  slight  part,  to 
this  cause,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  its  chief  cause  is  militarism? 


Remarks  and  Corollaries  393 

a  diminution  of  commercial  intercourse  and  with  the  reduc- 
tion of  economic  exchange  to  what  was  strictly  necessary, 
it  would  be  well  fitted  to  strengthen  in  each  of  us  the  distinc- 
tive traits  of  our  individuality.  Then  the  finest  flower 
of  our  social  life,  the  aesthetic  life,  would  blossom  forth, 
and  as  it  became  full-blown  all  men  would  come  to  have 
a  share  in  it, — a  rare  and  imperfect  condition  at  present.  And 
then  the  social  life,  with  its  complicated  apparatus  of  confin- 
ing functions  and  monotonous  rehearsals,  would  finally  ap- 
pear, like  the  organic  life  which  it  follows  and  complements, 
in  its  true  colours.  It  would  appear  as  a  long,  obscure,  and 
tortuous  transition  from  a  state  of  elementary  diversity  to 
one  marked  by  the  possession  of  personal  physiognomy.  It 
would  appear  as  a  mysterious  alembic  of  numberless  spiral 
curves  where  one  thing  is  sublimated  in  another,  where  out 
of  an  infinite  number  of  elements  that  have  been  bent  and 
crushed  and  despoiled  of  their  distinct  characteristics  is 
mental  and  fleeting  attributes  of  personality,  its  idiosyn- 
extracted  an  essential  and  volatile  principle,  the  funda- 
crasies,  its  ways  of  thinking  and  feeling,  here  to-day,  van- 
ished to-morrow. 


INDEX 


Accent,  spread  of,  217. 

Adaptation  to  environment,  ex- 
planation of  Hying  or  social 
types  not  found  in  their,  141. 

Adoption,  fiction  of,  53,  250,  315, 

352-3,  365- . 

Agriculture,  its  rivalry  with  com- 
merce, 289;  its  progress  depend- 
ent upon  uniformity  of  law,  321- 
2;  its  failure  to  progress  under 
feudalism,  335. 

Alcoholism,  explanation  of  spread 
of,  194,  195 ;  spread  of,  from 
superior  to  inferior,  231  N.  I. 

Amber,  its  importation  in  an- 
tiquity, 96,  330. 

Ammonite,  25  N.  I. 

Ancestor-worship,  53,  267  sq.,  275. 

Animals,  invention  among,  3,  4; 
imitation  among,  3,  4  N.  i,  67 
N.  I,  198  N.  i,  206;  domestica- 
tion of,  17,  42  N.  2,  46,  219  N.  2, 
235,  236,  274  N.  i,  276-80,  330  N. 
i ;  relation  of  primitive  man  to 
wild,  271-8,  372  N.  i ;  deification 
of,  274-8;  human  speech  under- 
stood by,  331  N.  2. 

Animal  societies,  4,  59,  60;  of  La 
Fontaine's  fables,  67. 

Anthropology,  distinction  between 
archaeology  and,  89  sq. 

Archaeology,  methods  of,  89  sq. ; 
proof  in,  of  preponderance  of 
imitation  over  invention,  98; 
principle  of  imitation  in,  98  sq. ; 
the  paleontology  of  society,  103 ; 
comparison  between  Statistics 
and,  ib. ;  branches  of,  107;  erro- 
neous deduction  about  primitive 
man  in,  325. 

Architecture,  transmission  of  Ro- 
man, 9;  resemblances  between 
Old  and  New  World,  39  N.  i ; 
imitation  in,  54;  development  of 
Greek  and  Egyptian,  54  sq. ;  an- 
alogies in,  56-7;  logical  conflicts 
in,  161,  162;  repetition  of  types 


in,  191 ;  invention  of,  235 ;  cli- 
mate not  an  adequate  explana- 
tion of  style  in,  326;  in  times  of 
fashion,  335;  in  the  igth  cen- 
tury, 344. 

d'Argenson,  218  N.  I. 

Aristocracy,  initiative  character  of, 
221 ;  influence  of  theocratic,  223 ; 
of  cities,  228;  the  cause  of 
democracy,  231 ;  racial  inter- 
mixture, characteristic  of,  238 
N.  i ;  speech  of  the,  257 ; 
Tocqueville's  distinction  between 
democracy  and,  303 ;  the  relation 
of  militancy  to,  305  N.  i ;  assimi- 
lation of  usages  in  the,  335;  the 
future  of,  388. 

Art,  laws  of  refraction  in,  23 ; 
differentiation  in,  55 ;  analysis  of 
Arabian,  Greek,  Egyptian,  99; 
logical  conflicts  in,  159;  inter- 
play of  fashion  and  custom  in, 
164;  the  ideal  the  substance  of, 
182 ;  conventionality  of,  191 ; 
evolution  of,  207;  survivals  in, 
209;  degeneration  of,  210;  ani- 
mal drawings,  first  attempts  in, 
274  N.  i ;  transition  from 
fashion  to  custom  in,  298;  rela- 
tion of  evolution  of,  to  industry, 
303  N.  i ;  during  periods  of  cus- 
tom and  of  fashion,  342,  346-55 ; 
religious  origin  of,  345 ;  its 
origin  in  handicraft,  353. 

Assimilation,  of  modern  civilisa- 
tions, xxiii.,  16,  388-9;  of  civili- 
sations through  imitation,  21, 
128;  social,  point  of  departure 
for  social  advance,  72;  produced 
through  cities,  228 ;  due  to  lan- 
guage, 264;  international  politi- 
cal, 290;  due  to  mediaeval 
preaching  friars,  338. 

Astronomy,  accumulable  discov- 
eries in,  174;  modern,  reducible 
to  a  single  formula,  178;  discov- 
ery of,  235. 

Atomism,  178. 


395 


Index 


B 


Babeau,  Albert,  293  N.  2,  299,  372 
N.  2,  385  N.  2. 

Baldwin,  75  N.  I. 

Barante,  de,  217. 

Barth,  152  N.  i,  222  N.  i. 

Baudrillaft,  49,  217,  218. 

Beaunis,  76. 

Belief,  transmission  of,  a  funda- 
mental social  relation,  xvi. ;  a 
social  force,  145  sq. ;  the  final 
object  of  desire,  147;  lowering 
of  plane  of,  172  N.  I ;  credulity, 
imitation  of,  197. 

Beliefs,  interferences  between,  24 
sq. ;  expressed  by  statistics,  104- 
7;  their  relations  to  invention, 
109;  tendency  to  geometric  pro- 
gression of,  115 ;  three  phases  of, 
126  sq. ;  conflict  between,  149 
sq. ;  spread  of,  210. 

Bentham,  iii. 

Bergson,  145  N.  I. 

Bernard,  Claude,  12. 

Bernheim,  76. 

Bertillon,  in. 

Binet,  76. 

Biology,  less  advanced  than  sociol- 
ogy. !3;  statistics  of,  uo-ll. 

Bodin,  199  N.  2. 

Bopp,  260  N.  i. 

Bordier,  239. 

Bourdeau,  42  N.  2,  46,  219  N.  2. 

Boutmy,  168  N.  I,  289  N.  i. 

Broca,  328  N.  I. 

Bronze,  spread  of  art  of  working, 
17;  same  transition  in  America 
and  Europe  from  age  of  stone  to 
age  of,  39  N.  I ;  unknown  in- 
ventor of,  91 ;  uniform  compo- 
sition of  prehistoric,  329-30; 
imitation  of  flint  implements  in, 
364-  ., 

Brunetiere,  357  N.  I. 

Buckle,  269,  346  N.  i,  357. 

Burckhardt,  134  N.  I,  191,  219  N. 
i,  293,  363. 

Burgess,  306  N.  I. 


Candplle,  de,  100. 

Cannibalism,  a  fashion,  127 ;  expla- 
nation of,  273;  not  typical  of 
primitive  society,  348. 

Ceremonial  government,  increase 
of,  61  N.  i,  192  N.  2,  211  N.  i. 


Chipiez,  57  N.  I. 

Cibrario,  334  N.  2. 

Circumcision,  among  Aztecs  and 
Hebrews,  41  N.  i. 

Cities,  increase  in  populations  of, 
104-5;  the  modern  aristocracies, 
226-9;  cause  of  social  superior- 
ity, 236;  intensity  of  imitation 
iu»  239;  fashion-imitation  in, 
248,  288;  of  refuge,  288;  uni- 
formity of  laws  in  German,  314. 

Civilisation,  causes  racial  differen- 
tiation, xxi.,  239,  252;  types  of, 
69;  causes  of  set-backs  in,  163 
N.  i ;  defined,  180,  390  N.  i ; 
American  race  the  outcome  of 
European,  239;  formula  of  de- 
velopment of  every,  254 ;  relation 
of  religion  to,  279  sq.  See  As- 
similation. 

Civilisations,  imitation  between, 
48;  independence  of  different, 
53;  decomposition  of,  in  archae- 
ology, 99. 

Colins,  153  N.  i. 

Commune,  origin  of,  227;  spread 
of  charter  of,  313. 

Communication,  in  prehistoric 
periods,  47;  essential  to  imita- 
tion, 115,  370;  originally  one- 
sided, 205-6,  371 ;  between 
French  and  English  courts,  229 ; 
amount  of,  necessary  for  imita- 
tion, 292  N.  i ;  its  relation  to 
democracy,  307-8;  effects  of, 
392  N.  i. 

Comte,  Auguste,  iv.,  xi.,  285  N.  I, 
303  N.  i,  344,  381. 

Condorcet.  xxiii. 

Confession,  rite  of,  among  Aztecs 
and  Catholics,  41  N.  I. 

Coulanges,  Fustel  de,  228  N.  I, 
239,  242.  288. 

Cournot,  iii.,  xi.,  260  N.  I,  380,  381. 

Courtesy,  origin  of,  217,  223;  tran- 
sition from  unilateral  to  recip- 
rocal in,  372,  377-9. 

Couvade,  209. 

Crime,  imitation  in,  iv. ;  Tarde  on 
problems  of,  v. ;  statistics  of, 
104,  114;  classification  of,  113, 
119-20;  effect  of  marriage  upon, 
117;  widespread  publication  of, 

345- 

Cross,  widespread  use  of,  47  N.  I. 
Curtius,    144   N.   i,  291,  299,  300, 

322. 
Custom,  interplay  of  fashion  and, 


Index 


397 


164 ;  its  relation  to  reproduction, 
253-4 ;  effects  of  transition  from, 
to  fashion  and  from  fashion  to 
custom  in  language,  255-65;  in 
religion,  265-86;  in  government, 
287-309;  in  legislation,  310-22; 
in  usages,  322-33;  in  industry, 
333-44 ;  in  art  and  morality,  344- 
65 ;  paternal  prestige  the  source 
of,  276 ;  relation  of  price  to,  339- 
40;  empire  of,  in  language,  344. 
See  Custom-Imitation  under 
Imitation. 


steamboat,  44 ;  of  the  circulation 
of  the  blood,  44,  170;  of  mineral 
springs  in  France,  92  N.  i ;  of 
tea,  coffee,  tobacco,  93 ;  for  the 
pleasure  of  discovery,  94;  of 
beet  sugar,  104;  of  fire  from 
friction,  235,  270  N.  i.  See  In- 
vention. 

Division  of  labor,  among  animals, 
60 ;  61  sq. ;  original  lack  of,  327. 

Dostoiesky,  207  N.  i,  246  N.  I. 

Dubois-Reymond,  125. 


D 


Darmesteter,  266  N.  I. 

Darwin,  xvii.,  12,  17,  37,  67  N.  I, 
370,  382. 

Death,  necessity  of,  7;  a  justifica- 
tion of  pessimism,  266  N.  I. 

Delahante,  119  N.  I,  129  N.  I. 

Delbceuf,  7,  76. 

Democracy,  tyranny  of  the  many 
during,  84;  imitation  during, 
225 ;  Tocqueville's  distinction 
between  aristocracy  and,  303, 
387 ;  increasing  resemblances  do 
not  necessitate,  388. 

Desire,  transmission  of,  a  funda- 
mental social  relation,  xvi.; 
growth  of,  to  invent,  43 ;  specific 
character  of ;  44,  93 ;  for  a  maxi- 
mum of  belief,  50;  a  social 
force,  145;  for  reason,  149;  do- 
cility, imitation  of,  197;  for 
equality,  303. 

Desires,  interferences  between,  24 
sq. ;  expressed  by  statistics,  104- 
7;  their  relation  to  invention, 
109,  159;  tendency  of,  towards 
geometric  progression,  115,  124; 
for  fraternity,  112,  121  sq.,  260; 
competition  of,  115;  for  truth, 
125;  for  property,  125-6;  three 
phases  of,  126  sq.,  increase  of,  in 
civilisation,  148  N.  i ;  conflict 
between,  149  sq. ;  spread  of,  210 ; 
satisiaction  of,  by  industry,  322; 
of  consumption  spread  more 
rapidly  than  corresponding  de- 
sires of  production,  329  sq. 

Diabolical  possession,  50-1. 

Discovery,  of  gallium,  12 ;  the  suc- 
cessful, of  the  present  deter- 
mines that  of  the  future,  19;  of 
Cicero's  Republic,  34;  of  the 


Eagle,     two-headed,     spread     of, 

through  imitation,  47  N.  I. 
Ellis,  Havelock,  v. 
Emission  theory,  48. 
English   language,   illustration   of 

linguistic     refraction      in,     22; 

vowel    differentiation    in,     143 ; 

spread  of,  257,  331 ;  grammatical 

simplification  in,  265. 
Envy,  the  effect  of  obedience,  201 ; 

assimilation    produced    by,    202 

N.  i. 

Erigeron,  spread  of  the,  17. 
Eructation,  as  an  act  of  courtesy^ 

42  N.   i. 
Espinas,  xvii.,  3,  4  N.  I,  59  N.  I. 


Family,  the  nation  developed  from 
the,  xxii. ;  spread  of,  dialects,  17, 
255,  287;  relation  between  imita- 
tion and  docility  and  credulity 
shown  in  the,  199;  the  patri- 
archal, 202-4,  267  N.  i ;  imita- 
tion in  the  primitive,  250,  269 ; 
the,  not  the  unique  source  of  so- 
ciety, 268;  religion  cradled  in 
the,  280,  287;  the,  the  original 
social  group,  287;  origin  of 
and  art  in  the  morality  314-15* 
345 ;  industry  in  the,  328 ;  under- 
mining of  the,  358.  See  Adop- 
tion. 

Fashion,  progress  of,  in  European 
societies,  16;  in  crimes,  113;  in- 
terplay of  custom  and,  164;  in 
dress,  109,  212,  334  N.  2,  385; 
contemporaneous  prestige,  the 
source  of,  276;  parliamentarism 
a,  293 ;  sixteenth  and  eighteenth 


398 


Index 


centuries  periods  of,  293  N.  2; 
the  secret  ballot  a,  ib.  ;  spread  of 
municipal  law  through,  314; 
jury  system  a,  317;  trial  by  tor- 
ture a,  ib.;  birth  of  political 
economy  during  ages  of,  320; 
increase  of  rationality  through, 
321 ;  tobacco-chewing  a,  327 ; 
naval,  in  America,  334 ;  unchang- 
ing, of  monastic  dress,  334  N.  I, 
383-4;  in  eating,  336  N.  2,  340; 
relation  of  price  to,  339 ;  its  rela- 
tion to  individualism  and  natur- 
alism, 341-2;  its  relation  to  in- 
vention, 343 ;  the  assumption  by, 
of  the  mask  of  custom,  361  sq. ; 
Latin  poetry  a,  362;  Roman  jur- 
isprudence a,  ib.  See  Custom 
See  Fashion-Imitation  under 
Imitation. 

Fere,  76. 

Feudalism,  assimilation  of,  62-3; 
formation  of,  73,  239-43 ;  per- 
sistence of  titles  of,  152  N.  i ; 
a  harmonising  factor,  186 ;  oppo- 
sition of  communes  to,  226 ;  fail- 
ure of  agriculture  to  progress 
under,  335 ;  a  stage  in  the  tran- 
sition from  unilateral  to  recipro- 
cal authority,  374;  disappearance 
9f,  380. 

Friday,  superstition  about,  106 
N.  i. 

Friedlander,  257  N.   I. 


Gamier,  42  N.  i. 

Gaudry,  25  N.  I. 

Generation.    See  Reproduction. 

Gerontocracy,  influence  of,  in 
primitive  societies,  268. 

Giard,  382  N.  i. 

Gide,  388. 

Glasson,  240,  241. 

Gobineau,  de,  xxii. 

Goblet  d'Alviella,  47  N.  i,  274 
N.  i. 

Government,  originally  an  answer 
to  a  demand  for  security,  174; 
distinction  between  additions 
and  substitutions  in,  180 ;  a  polit- 
ical idea,  182;  etiquette  of,  191; 
language,  an  instrument  of,  206 ; 
conservatism  and  liberalism  in, 
288;  compared  with  religion, 
289  N.  i ;  in  times  of  fashion, 


342 ;  relation  of  art  and  morality 
to,  345.  See  Ceremonial  Gov- 
ernment. 

Grimm,  22,  260  N  I. 

Guibert,  Louis,  186  N.  I. 

Guyau,  332. 


H 


Haeckel,  12,  370. 

Heredity,  inaccurate  use  of  term, 
xv. ;  its  relation  to  imitation, 
xxi.-xxii.,  25  N.  i,  280,  328,  357, 
368;  organic  progress  dependent 
upon,  7;  analogous  to  imitation 
and  vibration,  1 1 ;  during  cus- 
tom-imitation, 36 ;  first  repetition 
in,  43;  idea  of,  combined  with 
that  of  variability,  382. 

Hesitation,  opposed  to  imitation, 
165. 

Historic  method,  excellence  of,  14. 

History,  interpretation  of,  3,  109; 
methods  of,  8-10,  101 ;  continuity 
of,  12;  action  of  imitation  the 
first  principle  of,  49;  relation  of 
archaeology  to,  90,  102;  as  com- 
monly understood,  92;  definition 
of,  139;  a  tissue  of  tragedy  and 
comedy,  172;  the  reversible  and 
irreversible  in,  379  sq. 

Horse,  its  disappearance  from 
American  fauna,  46;  superseded 
as  a  means_of  locomotion,  158; 
introduced  into  Egypt,  214;  ad- 
vantage of  the,  in  war,  236; 
primitive  possessors  of  the,  277 
N.  i. 

Houzeau,  331  N.  2. 

Hugo,  Victor,  98,  226,  352. 

Hugonnet,  42    N.   I. 

Hypnotism,  compared  to  social 
phenomena,  76  sq. ;  199  N.  I, 
204,  275  N.  2. 


Idealism,  its  relation  to  material- 
ism, xviii. ;  in  sociology,  2,  3; 

177- 

Ideas,  geometrical  progression  of, 
18,  115;  constituting  a  social 
type,  68;  imitation  of,  precedes 
imitation  of  their  expression, 
207;  spread  more  easily  than 
usages,  323  N.  I. 


Index 


399 


Imitation,  meaning  of  term,  xiii.- 
xiv.;  of  self,  xiv.  N.  i,  75,  88, 
115  N.  i;  counter-,  xvii.-xix.; 
non-,  xix.-xx. 

Custom-,  its  path  prepared  by 
non-imitation  of  foreign  mod- 
els, xix. ;  influence  of  heredity 
during,  36;  predominance  of, 
over  fashion- imitation,  52  N. 
i ;  244  sq. ;  in  England,  289 
N.  i. 

Fashion-,  its  path  prepared  by 
non-imitation  of  anterior 
models,  xix. ;  192,  221  N.  I, 
231 ;  compared  with  custom- 
imitation,  244;  in  France,  289 
N.  i ;  in  the  formation  of  the 
United  States,  296;  individ- 
ualistic 320;  use  of  flint 
spread  by,  325 ;  characteristics 
of  periods  of,  328  N.  i ;  con- 
temporaneous, 357 ;  assimila- 
tion of,  369. 

In  Japan,  xx.,  216  N.  i,  254  N.  I ; 
progress  a  necessary  outcome  of 
the  laws  of,  xxiii. ;  its  relation 
to  invention,  3;  analogous  to 
vibration  and  heredity,  7,  70-1, 
189-90,  2II-I2,  386;  its  relation 
to  historic  facts,  12;  the  cause 
of  all  social  resemblances,  14,  37 ; 
linguistic,  15,  17;  role  of,  in 
Statistics  and  political  economy, 
16;  of  Columbus,  20;  of  Greco- 
Roman  civilisation,  21 ;  its  re- 
lation to  vibration  and  heredity 
one-sided,  34;  suppression  of 
embryonic  phases  in,  35-6;  not 
dependent  upon  direct  contact, 
48;  spreads  through  education, 
62 ;  of  Louis  XIV.,  64 ;  its  influ- 
ence upon  instinct,  67  N.  i ;  bio- 
logical, 75  N.  i ;  psychological, 
ib. ;  mutual,  79 ;  relation  of 
respect  to,  87;  a  kind  of 
somnambulism,  ib. ;  of  turn- 
ing movement  at  Ulm,  91 
N.  i ;  effect  of  laws  upon, 
94  N.  i ;  of  Greece  by  Etruria, 
98;  its  relation  to  sociological 
statistics,  in;  effect  of,  upon 
public  expenditure,  119;  in 
the  nineteenth  century,  151 ; 
modes  of,  189  sq.;  spread  of 
physiological  activities  through, 
194-6;  correlation  between  cre- 
dulity, docility,  and,  197  sq. ; 
subjective  and  objective,  197  sq., 


3/01 ;  of  the  superior  by  the  in- 
ferior, 213  sq.,  368,  369;  of  the 
inferior  by  the  superior,  215;  of 
the  foreigner,  221,  247  sq.,  266 
N.  i,  269-70,  337,  340  N.  2;  of 
the  nearest,  224;  under  democ- 
racy, 225;  in  cities,  228;  in 
preaching,  229  N.  i ;  mutualised 
and  specialised,  232-3;  emanci- 
pated from  heredity,  280;  of 
English  parliamentarism,  293 ; 
of  Greece,  301 ;  Tocqueville's 
contribution  to  theory  of,  309 
N.  i ;  of  jurisprudence  of  Paris, 
312;  from  within  out,  323  N.  I, 
332  sq. ;  professional,  328  N.  i ; 
among  the  Persians,  334  N.  2; 
sumptuary  laws  a  check  upon, 
337  N.  i;  Roman  plebs  assimi- 
lated to  patricians  through,  348 
N.  i ;  in  the  sixteenth  and  eigh- 
teenth centuries,  351-2;  its  ten- 
dency towards  indefinite  pro- 
gression, 366;  rapid  spread  of 
commercial,  370-1 ;  transition  of 
unilateral  into  reciprocal,  371 
sq.  See  Animals. 

Imitations',  geometrical  progres- 
sion of,  20;  modification  of,  22; 
interferences  between,  23  sq.. ; 
control  of,  by  statistics,  in; 
career  of,  the  exclusive  interest 
of  history,  139;  order  of,  dis- 
tinct from  that  of  inventions, 
381. 

Individualism,  promoted  through 
widespread  imitation,  xxiv. ; 
in  sociology,  2 ;  a  special  kind  of 
realism,  7 ;  in  Greece,  301 ;  rela- 
tion of  fashion  to,  341 ;  357  N.  i. 

Indo-European  languages,  identity 
of  roots  of,  8;  common  progeni- 
tor of,  15,  103 ;  vowel  softening 
and  verbal  differentiation  in, 
143- 

Industry,  logical  conflicts  in,  157- 
8;  interplay  of  fashion  and  cus- 
tom in,  164;  accumulated  inven- 
tions in,  174,  180-1 ;  substitution 
of  ends  in,  179;  morality  the  end 
of,  182;  progress1  of  modern, 
184;  relation  of  evolution  of,  to 
art,  303  N.  i ;  its  progress  de- 
pendent upon  uniformity  of  law, 
321-2;  its  progress  dependent 
upon  spread  of  same  wants  and 
tastes,  333 ;  effects  of  transition 
from  custom  to  fashion,  and 


400 


Index 


from    fashion  to  custom,  upon, 
333  sq. ;  transition  from  the  uni- 
lateral to  the  reciprocal  in,  375. 
Intimidation,    social    meaning    of, 

85- 

Invention,  meaning  of  the  term, 
xiv.-xv. ;  distinct  from  counter- 
imitation,  xviii.-xix. ;  its  rela- 
tion to  imitation,  3 ;  of  printing, 
5,22,  153,  364;  of  gunpowder,  n, 
22,  171 ;  of  the  Morse  telegraph, 
ii,  Si,  93;  of  the  mill,  n,  152, 
171,  235,  376;  of  railroads,  n  N. 
I,  131 ;  theory  of,  in  Logique  so- 
ciale,  13  N.  i ;  tendency  of 
every,  to  expand,  17;  every,  an 
answer  to  a  problem,  45 ;  of 
steam  engines,  104 ;  of  marriage, 
in,  117;  exhaustion  of,  138;  of 
oil  painting,  160;  logical  duels 
of  society  ended  through,  170-2; 
of  the  telescope,  171 ;  of  the  cart, 
ib. ;  of  bows  and  arrows,  235; 
of  bone  needles,  ib. ;  of  feudal 
royalty,  292;  of  means  of  fish- 
ing, 326  N.  I ;  its  relation  to 
fashion,  343 ;  one  form  of  the 
interference  of  repetitions,  382. 
See  Animals. 

Inventions,  definition  of,  2;  tend- 
ency of,  to  expand,  17;  inter- 
ference of,  20  N.  i ;  composed 
of  prior  imitations,  45 ;  non- 
imitable,  91-2;  relation  of  his- 
tory to,  92;  causes  of  social  ne- 
cessities, 93;  history  of,  given 
by  archaeology,  100;  progress  of, 
127,  250;  interference  of,  129: 
general  classification  of,  149; 
accumulable,  154,  173  sq.;  con- 
flicts between,  154  sq.;  substi- 
tution of,  162  sq. ;  of  science, 
i?7,  376;  their  relation  to  social 
superiority,  234  sq.;  cosmog- 
onies representative  of  series  of. 
270  N.  i ;  imitative  nature  of, 
344;  in  morals,  346-7;  in  art, 
347;  in  law,  376;  their  order 
distinct  from  that  of  imitation, 
381 ;  relating  to  weaving  384. 


Jametel,  42  N.  I. 
Jannet,  Claudio,  306  N.  I. 
Jansenn,  197,  219  N.  I. 
Jusserand,  336  N.  i,  337. 


K 


King-gods,  as  initiators,  81 ;  loved 
as  well  as  feared,  202-3. 


La  Bruyere,  229  N.  i,  378. 

La  Fontaine,  67,  241. 

Lake-dwellings,  of  Switzerland 
and  New  Guinea,  47. 

Lang,  275. 

Language,  transmission  of  Coptic, 
8;  the  great  vehicle  of  imita- 
tions, 15;  spread  of,  17,  255  sq., 
331 ;  refraction  in,  22-3 ;  resem- 
blances in,  40-1 ;  origin  of,  42, 
294-S ,'  physical  causes  in,  140 ; 
role  of  analogy  in,  142;  imi- 
tation and  invention  in,  142 
sq. ;  irreversibility  in,  143,  385 ; 
conflicts  in,  154-5;  substitu- 
tions in,  163;  duels  in,  164, 
166,  167;  verbal  accumulation 
in,  173-5;  grammatical  addi- 
tions in,  175;  inflation  in,  176; 
grammar,  the  essential  side  of, 
182;  conventionality  of,  190-1; 
ideas  borrowed  before,  201 ; 
survivals  in,  209;  contraction  in. 
210;  imitation  of  the  inferior  by 
the  superior  in,  215;  monogen- 
ism  of,  255  N.  i;  classic  liter- 
ature dependent  upon  spread  of, 
264,  333 ;  attributed  to  animals, 
274  N.  i ;  transition  from  fash- 
ion to  custom  in,  257;  three 
phases  of,  311;  in  periods  of 
fashion,  342;  persistence  of  cus- 
tom in,  344;  interpretation  of 
renascences  in,  362;  irreversi- 
language,  385-6.  See  English 
bility  in,  Indo-European  lan- 
guages, Latin  language,  Ro- 
mance languages. 

Latin  language,  spread  of,  9,  219, 
257  N.  i ;  Spanish  or  Gallic  in- 
fluence on,  22;  vowel  differen- 
tiation in,  143;  imitation  of,  144; 
different  verbal  forms  in,  155; 
worsted  in  conflict  with  Ro- 
mance tongues,  163 ;  grammati- 
cal solidarity  of,  175;  Greek  in- 
fluence upon,  259;  decomposi- 
tion of,  259  sq. 

Lavelaye,    de,    125. 

Lavisse,  227  N.  I. 


Index 


401 


Law,  importance  of,  in  social  re- 
lations, 61 ;  logical  conflicts  in 
Roman,  168;  substitution  and 
accumulation  in,  178;  etiquette 
of,  191 ;  principles  of,  borrowed 
before  procedure,  201 ;  survivals 
of  feudal,  209;  a  particular  de- 
velopment of  religion,  310;  dis- 
tinction between  common  and 
statute,  310-11;  three  phases 
of,  311  sq.',  of  Twelve  Tables 
adopted  through  fashion-imi- 
tation, 312;  spread  of  Roman 
and  of  French,  312-13;  dis- 
tinction between  ancient  and 
modern,  314;  history  of  penal, 
316-17;  in  times  of  fashion, 
342 ;  renascences  in,  362. 

Laws,  relation  of  wants  and  ideas 
to,  209;  sumptuary,  illustrative 
of  imitation  of  superior  by  in- 
fejior.  218;  spread  of  new,  313; 
distinction  between  justice  and 
equity  in,  318;  Roman,  318,  331; 
industrial  progress  dependent 
upon  uniform,  321-2. 

Lecoq  de  Boisbaudran,   12. 

Lenormand,  329. 

Like-mindedness,  not  the  final  cri- 
terion of  society,  60;  law  and, 
61;  spread  of,  115,  358;  inter- 
national, 345. 

Littre,  260,  262,  270  N.  I. 

Logique  socials,  vi.,  xiii.,  13  N.  I,  34 
N.  i,  169  N.  i,  198  N.  i,  339  N. 
i. 

Lubbock,  209. 

Luchaire,  227. 

Luxury,  spread  of,  217-19,  335; 
of  shrines  and  reliquaries,  338 
N.  i. 

Lyall,  80  N.  2,  265  N.  2,  267. 


M 


Maine,  Sumner,  95,  267  N.  I,  288, 
292,  293,  314,  315,  316. 

Malthus,  17. 

Marriage,  its  effect  upon  mor- 
tality, in;  statistics  of,  117, 
120;  of  Emperor  of  China,  192 
N.  i ;  by  capture,  209 ;  imita- 
tion of  patrician,  at  Rome,  234 
N.  i,  348  N.  i ;  transition  from 
unilateral  to  reciprocal  in,  373. 

Mathematics,  science  of,  depend- 
ent upon  repetition,  15. 


Maudsley,  78,  79  N.  i,  88. 

Maury,  80,  96,  98,  99. 

Mendelejeff,   12. 

Menger,   iii. 

Mill,  John  Stuart,  383. 

Mimicry,  suggested  explanation 
of,  40  N.  i. 

Monadology,  177. 

Monasticism,  a  fashion,  127;  an 
expression  of  the  subjection  of 
reproduction  to  imitation,  251 
N.  i. 

Monogenism,  43,  255  N.  I. 

Morality,  rivalry  between  old  and 
new,  32 ;  a  form  of  industry, 
158;  its  relation  to  religious 
proselytism,  281 ;  the  spiritual 
equivalent  of  ritual,  284;  the 
supremacy  of,  ib. ;  religious  ori- 
gin of,  345,  347;  inventions  in, 
345-7;  during  periods  of  cus- 
tom and  of  fashion,  346  sq.; 
social  character  of,  350. 


N 


Nadaillac,  de,  96  N.  I. 

Naegeli,  von,  6  N.  I. 

Naturalism,  suggested  by  the  su- 
pernatural, xvii. ;  relation  of 
fashion  to,  341,  357  N.  i. 

Newspapers,  future  development 
of,  136;  power  of,  206,  225  N.  i, 

335- 

Newton,  26,  36,  48,  177,  178. 
Niebuhr,  294. 
Npminalism,    its    emphasis    upon 

individual  variation,  7. 
Novicow,  331  N.  i. 


O 


Obelisks,  satisfy  a  social  need,  58 
N.  i. 

Origin  of  species,  suggested  ex- 
planation of,  4;  compared  with 
that  of  atoms  and  of  civilisa- 
tions, 13. 


Pangenesis,  theory  of,  45. 
Paulhan,  88  N  2. 
Patriotism,  originally  aristocratic, 
231    N.   i ;   an   enlarged   family 


402 


Index 


sentiment,  291 ;  American,  297  j 
spread  of,  in  Greece  and  France, 
351  N.  2;  re-awakening  of 
Greek,  362. 

Pelitot,   Abbe,  223  N.  I. 

Per r ens,  231  N.  i. 

Perrot,  56,  57  N.  I,  58. 

Political  economy,  made  possible 
through  effects  of  fashion,  16; 
birth  of,  during  ages  of  fashion, 

320- 

Pottery,  art  of,  not  instinctive,  325. 

Prestige,  force  of,  78;  a  non-log- 
ical social  cause,  141,  214;  of 
Florence,  216;  of  political  ma- 
jorities, 230;  of  power  and 
wealth,  233;  of  antiquity,  246; 
parental,  269-70,  276;  animal, 
276;  of  the  foreigner,  291;  of 
Rome,  336  N.  2. 

Property,  distinction  between  real 
and  personal,  connected  with 
that  between  custom-  and  fash- 
ion-imitation, 319-20 

Public  opinion,  on  spread  of  rail- 
roads in  France,  131-2;  con- 
trol of,  230;  relation  of  honour 
to,  358,  360. 


Q 

Quatrefages,  38. 
Quetelet,  114,  119,  120. 


Rambaud,  227  N.  i,  334  N.  2. 

Ranke,  370. 

Raynouard,  22. 

Realism,  its  emphasis  upon  rer 
semblance  and  repetition,  7. 

Reclus,   filisee,  326. 

Regnaud,   143. 

Religion,  refraction  in,  23;  rivalry 
of  science  with,  32;  beginning 
of,  42 ;  futility  of  persecution  in, 
153  N.  i ;  logical  conflicts  in,  156, 
167;  interplay  of  fashion  and 
custom  in.  164;  non-contradic- 
tory myths  in,  173;  non-accu- 
mulable  dogma  and  ritual  in, 
176;  narrative  and  dogmatic, 
176-7;  dogma,  the  essential 
side  of,  182 ;  etiquette  of,  190-1 ; 
belief  in  a.  precedes  prac- 
tice of  a,  200;  spread  of,  208, 


287;  survivals  in,  209;  origi- 
nally a  luxury,  231  N.  I ;  social 
importance  of,  244  N.  i ;  dis- 
tinction between  proselyting  and 
non-proselyting,  265-6 ;  a  n  i- 
mism,  the  beginning  of,  268; 
primitive  forms  of,  267-79;  spir- 
itualisation  of,  279-80;  rela- 
tion of  civilisation  to,  279  sq. ; 
relations  of  custom  and  fashion 
to,  281 ;  distinction  between  bar- 
baric and  civilised,  283-4; 
compared  with  government,  289 
N.  i ;  transition  from  fashion 
to  custom  in,  297;  three  phases 
of,  311;  usage  connected  with, 
322;  the  need  of  sentiment  pre- 
cedes the  need  of  genius  in,  331 ; 
in  times  of  fashion,  342 ;  under- 
mining  of,  358;  the  assumption 
by  fashion  of  the  mask  of  cus- 
tom in,  361-2;  irreversibility  in, 
386. 

Renan,  172  N.  I. 

Repetition,  relation  of,  to  varia- 
tion, 7 ;  forms  of  universal,  ib. ; 
cause  of  all  resemblance,  14; 
resemblance  of  parts  of  space 
apparently  not  due  to,  15 ;  cere- 
bral, 74;  interdependence  of, 
forms  of,  249-51. 

Repetitions,  role  of,  in  science, 
5-6,  14;  geometrical  progression 
of,  17;  the  source  of  universal, 
366  N.  i ;  interference  of,  382. 

Reproduction,  resemblances  due 
to,  14;  Malthusian  law  of,  17; 
relation  of  vibration  and  imi- 
tation to,  34,  249-50;  analogous 
to  vibration  and  imitation,  70-1, 
189-90,  211-12,  386;  its  relation 
to  custom,  253-4. 

Resemblances,  role  of,  in  science, 
5-6,  14;  due  to  repetition,  14; 
biological,  not  due  to  reproduc- 
tion, 37-8;  social,  not  due  to 
imitation,  38-9,  325-6;  between 
arts  and  practices  of  Old  World 
and  New  World  peoples,  38-9, 
41  N.  i,  47  N.  i,  96  N.  i ;  spon- 
taneous, 50;  between  Christian- 
ity and  Buddhism,  57;  in  dec- 
orations of  tombs,  96 ;  in  pre- 
historic remains,  ib. ;  linguistic, 
essential  to  other  social  resem- 
blances, 264;  in  municipal  legis- 
lation of  twelfth  and  thirteenth 
centuries,  313-14;  in  modern 


Index 


403 


•ways  of  living,  323-4;  in 
Oriental  usages,  324-5;  con- 
sciousness of,  necessary  to  in- 
dustry, 337-8;  during  periods 
of  custom  and  of  fashion,  346. 

Respect,  social  significance  of, 
86-7. 

Reuleaux,  63  N.  I. 

Ribot,  34  N.  i,  197. 

Richet,  76,  81. 

Riviere,  fimile,  326  N.  I. 

Romance  languages,  formation  of, 
259  sq. 

Romanes,  37,  67  N.   I. 

Romanism,  9-10,  21,  63,  200. 

Roscher,  227,  334  N.  i,  336. 

Rougemont,  329. 

Royer,  Clemence,  39  N.  I. 


Saint-Simon,  217. 

Sayce,  142  N.  I,  191,  255  N.  I. 

Schelling,   12. 

Schliemann,  277. 

Schulte,  314. 

Science,  place  of  affirmation  in, 
4-5 ;  nature  of,  4-6 ;  starting- 
point  of,  6  N.  i ;  demands  of, 
10;  subject  of,  14;  source  of 
social  revolution,  80  N.  I ;  born 
from  Christianity,  125;  exten- 
sion of,  177;  comparison  be- 
tween industrial  inventions  and 
facts  of,  180;  the  future  religion, 
286. 

Seeley,  316. 

Sensations,  the  statistics  of  the 
external  world,  315. 

Sewing,  use  of  tendons  and  fish 
bones  in,  47. 

Slavery,  64,  171 ;  imitation  under, 
219  N.  3,  375;  origin  of,  278-9; 
at  Athens,  349;  disappearance 
of,  380. 

Smith,  Adam,  79,  130. 

Social  causes,  distinction  between 
logical  and  non-logical,  141. 

Social  dialectic,   168. 

Social  forces,  composition  of,  19. 

Socialism,  a  special  kind  of  real- 
ism, 7 ;  future  conversion  to,  30 ; 
suppression  o  f  competition 
through  State,  33;  its  spread  in 
cities,  228  N.  I ;  modern  tend- 
ency towards,  306. 

Sociality,  defined,  69 


Socialisation,  65. 

Social  logic,  xxiii.,  150,  166,  238, 
285,  310  N.  i,  382,  388. 

Social  organization,  its  relation  to 
imitation,  74;  dependent  upon 
agreement  or  opposition  of  be- 
liefs, 146. 

Social  progress,  cause  of,  43 ;  def- 
inition of,  148. 

Social  reason,  149;  relation  of 
fashion  to,  341. 

Social  survivals,  152  N.  i,  209. 

Social  type,  analysis  of,  68. 

Society,  starting-point  of,  28;  def- 
inition of,  59,  68,  74;  economic 
conception  of,  criticised,  59-60; 
distinction  between  nation  and, 
65 ;  the  organisation  of  imita- 
tiyeness,  70;  a  conception  of 
primitive,  95;  equality  in  primi- 
tive, 348.  '1 

Sociology,  as  conceived  by  Comtei 
and  Spencer,  iv. ;  scope  of  pure, 
ix.-x. ;  misleading  character 
given  to,  I ;  relation  of  human 
to  animal,  3 ;  difference  between! 
methods  of  natural  science  and' 
of,  8-10;  more  advanced  than 
chemistry  or  biology,  13;  dis- 
tinction between  social  philoso- 
phy and,  ib. ;  power  to  predict 
in,  19;  position  of  race  in,  19 
N.  I ;  distinction  between  anal- 
ogies and  homologies  in,  40. 

Somnambulism.     See   Hypnotism. 

Spencer,  Herbert,  iv.,  xvii.,  13,  61 
N.  i,  147,  192  N.  2,  202,  207,  210, 
217  N.  i,  302  sq.,  370,  371  N.  i, 
377,  38i. 

Statistical  curves,  superior  to  sta- 
tistical tables,  105 ;  interpretation 
of,  116  sq. ;  compared  to  visual 
images,  132-3- 

Statistics,  made  possible  through 
effects  of  fashion,  16 ;  definition 
of,  102;  the  physiology  of  soci- 
ety, 103 ;  comparison  between 
archaeology  and,  ib. ;  methods  of, 
105 ;  gaps  in,  108 ;  function 
of  sociological,  no-n;  relation 
of  medical,  to  sociology,  1 1 1 ; 
meaning  of  commercial,  112; 
future  of,  133  sq. ;  beginnings 
of,  134  N.  i ;  limitations  of, 
137;  measurement  of  tendencies 
to  transmission  through  imita- 
tion dependent  upon,  194;  cal- 
culation of  actions  through,  307. 


404 


Index 


Sympathy,  the  result  of  propitious 
interferences  of  ideas  and  voli- 
tions, 25;  relation  of  prestige 
to,  79- 


Taine,  74. 

Tarde,  Gabriel,  birth  and  educa- 
tion of,  iii. ;  his  analysis  of  mo- 
tive, |iJ.-iv. ;  writings  of,  iii.,  v., 
vi.,  vii.,  ix.,  108  N.  i,  145  N.  i, 
310  N.  i,  317  N.  i,  339  N.  i, 
351  N.  i.  See  Logique  sociakj 
public  and  professional  career 
of,  vi. 

•Tattooing,  41  N.  2,  127. 

Thierry,  Amedee,  336  N.  3. 

Thierry,  Augustin,  227. 

Thompson,  70. 

Tocqueville,  225  N.  i,  229,  231, 
257.  296,  297,  302  sq.,  334,  387, 
388. 

Totemism,  41  N.  i,  275. 

.Tylor,  45  N.  2,  353. 

Tyndall,  12. 


U 

Undulation.     See  Vibration. 

United  States,  spread  of  tele- 
phones in  the,  115;  growth  of 
population  in  the,  127;  imita- 
tion among  negroes  in  the,  219 
N.  i ;  future  carrying  trade  of 
the,  220-1 ;  Anglo-American 
type  in  the,  252;  formation  of 
the,  295-7;  centralization  in 
the,  306  N.  i ;  transportation 
and  communication  in  the,  309; 
tobacco-chewing  in  the,  327; 
changeability  of  naval  fashions 
in  the,  334. 

Universal  suffrage,  value  of,  108 
N.  i ;  calculation  of  desires 
through,  307 ;  kingship  the  nec- 
essary antecedent  of,  375. 


and  imitation,  n,  71,  189,  211- 
12,  386;  resemblances  due  to, 
14;  relation  of  reproduction  to, 
34,  249. 

Vico,  13,  348  N.  i. 

Viollet,  Paul,  21 1  N.  I,  372  N.  2, 
390  N.  i. 

Vogue,  Melchoir  de,  224  N.  I. 

Voltaire,  294,  328  N.  i,  341. 

Vortex  theory,  70. 


W 

Walras,  iii. 

War,  two  opposing  sides  in,  156- 
7,  161 ;  accumulable  inventions 
in,  174;  strategy  constitutes, 
182;  a  substitute  for  individual 
struggles,  186;  leads  to  peace, 
187;  imitation  in,  216;  its  effect 
upon  morality,  350;  more  civi- 
lising for  conquered  than  for 
conqueror,  368;  priority  of  the 
chase  over,  372;  transition  from 
the  unilateral  to  the  reciprocal 
in,  377- 

Weber,  57. 

Whitney,  191. 

Wiener,  93. 

Women,  assimilation  of,  with  men, 
66;  imitation  among,  212-13, 
223  N.  i ;  smaller  number  of,  in 
cities  than  men,  228;  originally 
not  the  associates  of  men,  348; 
emancipation  of  Athenian,  349; 
the  slaves  of  primitive  men,  375 ; 
dress  fashions  less  reversible 
for  men  than  for,  384. 

Writing,  unknown  inventor  of,  91 ; 
its  relation  to  discoveries,  149; 
conflict  between  cuneiform  and 
Phoenician,  154,  168;  sacred 
character  of,  205 ;  adoption  by 
Japanese  of  Chinese,  216  N.  i ; 
from  rierht  to  left  of  sacerdotal 
origin,  322;  habit  of,  necessary 
to  extensive  paper-making,  337. 

Wurtz,  70. 


V 


Vibration,  analogous  to  heredity      Zoborowski,  330  N.  i. 


SEIGNOBOS'S  POLITICAL  HISTORY  OF  EUROPE 

since  1814.  ,  i 

By  CHARLES  SEIGNOBOS.  Translation  edited  by  Profc 
SILAS  M.  MAC  VANE,  of  Harvard  University,  xx  -f-  881  pp. 
8vo.  $3.00  net. 

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thorough  freedom  from  national  or  other  prejudice,  and  above  all 
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histories. — From  the  Editor" s  Preface. 

"  The  best  history  of  Europe  in  the  nineteenth  century  that  has 
yet  appeared." — Prof.  H.  Morse  Stephens  of  Cornell  Univer- 
sity, in  Book  Reviews. 

SEIGNOBOS'S  HISTORY  OF  THE  ROMAN  PEOPLE 

Translation  edited  by  Dr.  WM.  FAIRLEY.  With  maps 
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Parallel  Readings. 

SEIGNOBOS'S  FEUDAL  REGIME 

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LANGLOIS  &  SEIGNOBOS'S  STUDY  OF  HISTORY 

An   Introduction   to  the   Study   of   History.      B7   CH-    V- 

LANGLOIS  and  CH.  SEIGNOBOS.  Translated  by  G.  G.  BERRY. 
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publican).— "The  most  complete  and  perfect  work  of  its  kind"  (The 
Home  Journal,  New  York). — "  For  the  musical  student  and  music  teacher 
invaluable  if  not  indispensable  "  (Buffalo  Commercial). — "  He  has  ap- 
portioned his  pages  with  rare  good  judgment "  (Churchman). — "  It  is  of 
all  things  thorough"  (Brooklyn  Eagle). — "There  is  nothing  superfi- 
cial about  it  "  (Hartford  Courant).—"\\.  has  a  reliability  and  authority 
which  give  it  the  highest  value  "  (Chicago  Tribune). — "  Distinctly  scien- 
tific "  (Providence  Journal). — "  It  seems  to  have  been  his  desire  to  let  no 
interesting  topic  escape.  .  .  .  The  wonder  is  that  those  parts  of  the  book 
which  ought  to  be  dry  are  so  readable.  ...  A  style'which  can  fairly 
be  described  as  fascinating  "  (N.  Y.  Times). — "  Free  from  superfluous 
technicalities"  (Providence Journal). — "  He  has  covered  the  field  with 
French  clarity  and  German  thoroughness"  (Springfield Republican). 
— "  Not  too  technical  to  be  exceedingly  useful  and  enjoyable  to  every 
intelligent  reader  "  (Hartford  Courant). — "  Lightened  with  interesting 
anecdotes  "  (Brooklyn  Eagle). — "  He  writes  brilliantly  :  even  the  laziest 
or  most  indifferent  will  find  that  be  chains  the  attention  and  makes  a 
perusal  of  the  history  of  music  a  delightful  recreation  "  (N.  Y,  Home 
Journal). 
•  Circular  en  application. 

LUCAS'   A  BOOK   OF  VERSES  FOR   CHILDREN 

Over  200  poems,  representing  some  80  authors.  Compiled  by 
EDWARD  VERRALL  LUCAS.  With  title-page  and  cover-lining  pic- 
tures in  color  by  F.  D.  BEDFORD,  two  other  illustrations,  and  white 
cloth  cover  in  three  colors  and  gilt.  Revised  Edition.  12010.  $2.00. 

Chicago  Evening  Post :  "  Will  interest  the  old  hardly  less  than 
<he  young." 

Critic-  "We  know  of  no  other  anthology  for  children  so  com- 
plete and  well  arranged." 

New  York  Tribune  :  "  The  book  remains  a  good  one;  it  contains 
so  much  that  is  charming,  so  much  that  is  admiralty  in  tune  with 
the  spirit  of  childhood.  Moreover,  the  few  colored  decorations  with 
which  it  is  supplied  are  extremely  artistic,  and  the  cover  is  excep- 
tionally attractive." 

Churchman  :  "  Beautiful  in  its  gay  cover,  laid  paper,  and  deco- 
rated title-page.  Mr.  Edward  Verrall  Lucas  has  made  the  selections 
with  nice  discrimination  and  an  intimate  knowledge  of  children's 
needs  and  capacities.  Many  of  the  selections  are  classic,  all  are  re- 
fined and  excellent.  The  book  is  valuable  as  a  household  treasure." 
Descriptive  circular  on  application. 

HENRY  HOLT  &  CO.    29 

»'99  U) 


Li.  £ 

" 


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